


Give Me A Sign

by marinstan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco Malfoy, Deaf Harry, Fluff, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Slow Burn, Smut, Top Harry Potter, Writer Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22986946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinstan/pseuds/marinstan
Summary: After the war, Harry Potter doesn't get his happy ending. Instead, he's now deaf and mute and neighbours with Draco Malfoy.Being in love is never easy and sometimes, the timing is just never right. But patience is a virtue and Harry a go-getter - just a little oblivious at times.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 41
Kudos: 421





	1. Chapter 1

The sky is dark and droplets of rain hit my skin, running down my neck and making me shiver. I make it inside the building before it starts pouring in earnest.

I exhale and wipe the wetness on my face away, my hair limp from dampness. I'm cold and my legs are hurting. It's not exactly fun to be sitting at a desk for ten hours straight, sorting files by hand.

They call it work – I call it slavery. It's what's left for former Death Eaters. No one in their right mind would employ me.

I'm halfway up the stairs to my shitty apartment when I'm startled by a door opening. The apartment on the first floor has been deserted since the old lady occupying it died two months ago, leaving nothing behind but a distinct smell of catfood lingering in the hallway.

Someone exits the apartment; male, judging by the broad shoulders.

As soon as I see the mop of messy hair, my breath hitches.

This is impossible. Absolutely impossible.

And yet, when he turns and I see his profile, there is no doubt left.

It's Harry fucking Potter.

What the hell is he doing in a house like this? This is the worst of the worst, at least in London.

„Potter,“ I call before I can think it through. It's not like I want him to know that I live here, but... well, I want to know what _he_ is doing here.

He doesn't fully turn to me, but instead heads to the door.

Alright, so he is ignoring me now. Wonderful.

I've become very used to being ignored – most people deem it the best way to handle me. I think they believe it's nicer than glaring. But by now, I almost prefer being stared at. Otherwise, I might forget that I actually exist.

I'm surprised though by how much this particular case of being ignored throws me. I'm not used to Potter ignoring me. He's normally so easy to bait. But it's been over a year. Things change, I certainly must know.

I'm standing on the creaking stairs for a few more moments after Potter is long gone, wondering how much bad luck one can have in the short lifespan of nineteen years.

I have no idea how he does it, but suddenly, Potter is everywhere. He seems to always be leaving the house when I come home and I've gotten used to glaring daggers into his back. He's still ignoring me. I've hissed his name twice more and he consequently acts like I wouldn't exist. I have yet to look him in the eyes.

Not that I'd want to, of course. The humiliating era of me chasing Potter's attention is supposed to be over.

Rain is thrumming against the windows and even wrapped up in my thickest blanket, I'm cold. Especially my hands holding the quill are frozen. I feel like my right hand is already completely destroyed from my relentless writing every night.

It's all I'm doing lately. Going out is no fun for me anymore – not with the Dark Mark still visible on the pale skin of my forearm, despite my attempts to cut it unrecognizable. Not with my father in Azkaban and my mother under confinement in Malfoy Manor.

When I get back home on a Friday evening, positively brain-dead after another pointless day of dull paperwork, I'm almost tripping over Potter's legs. He's sitting across the small hallway in front of his door, murderous expression on his face.

Me almost crashing my face into the floor because of his outstretched legs finally gets me his attention.

He is staring at me like he'd never seen me before. Like I wouldn't have called his name three times.

I try for my best sneer, even though his bright green eyes make me feel like there wouldn't be quite enough air in the house. „What are you looking at, Potter?“

He doesn't answer. His open, surprised expression transforms into a glare.

„And why is the mighty Savior sitting on the floor?“ He still does not answer and I want to scream at him. „So you're pretending I don't exist now, I see. Well, have fun staring at your door,“ I snap and almost stumble as I stomp upstairs, pulse way too quick.

When I go downstairs later that night to take out the trash (yes, it's one of those ugly tasks I now have to do myself), Potter is still sitting there. It looks like he might be about to fall asleep.

The idiot must be freezing.

I look at him in bewilderment. He's avoiding my gaze. I think I can see him swallow.

„Okay, Potter. You got me confused. Even you, I wouldn't have thought foolish enough to enjoy sitting in cold hallways smelling of catfood. Apparently, I've undererstimated you.“

I give him at least ten seconds. He doesn't respond. Not one word. Not even _Sod off, Malfoy_.

I don't get it. Potter has never been good at biting his tongue.

„Do you really live here?“ I ask. I still can't quite believe it.

Potter casts me a quick glance, then looks away again.

„Well, then. Keep on ignoring me.“

I roll my eyes and head to the stairs. But I can't resist and halt when I hear Potter getting up.

I turn, as silently as possible, and watch with my breath held.

Potter is standing in front of the door, his wand drawn. It sends a sharp ache through my chest.

I haven't even held a wand in over a year. I'm not allowed to.

Potter taps against the lock of the door. So I guess he doesn't even need words to do magic now anymore. I hate him even more for that – non-verbal magic has always been _my_ thing. The thing I was good at and Potter wasn't.

But maybe Potter still isn't good at it, judging by the door staying firmly closed.

Is this some sick kind of challenge? Will he stay outside until he manages to open the door non-verbally?

I frown, still looking. Apparently unable to move.

Potter is shivering and then... he lets out a frustrated noise. It's weird. I can't say why, but it sounds – not like the groans I remember from Potter.

Maybe he can't speak.

The thought makes me go rigid, brain working. It would make sense. Potter might be a Gryffindor, but even he can't be stupid enough to rather risk getting pneunomia in the hallway instead of unlocking his door.

I hesitate.

I should go. Leave him here, figuring it out.

Potter returns to his spot on the wall, out of view for me. I can hear him scoot down, sneakers scratching over the floor. I should leave him there. If it was the other way around, he wouldn't give a damn either.

„Potter?“

This time, his stare is outright hostile. He almost bares his teeth at me.

Since he apparently can't do magic at the moment, I'm not too worried.

„Did someone hex you?“ I ask, genuinely curious. I wonder who is powerful enough to manage to curse Potter so effectively that it lasts for hours.

As he doesn't answer, I throw my hands up in frustration. „Merlin, why am I even here? Why do I even care? I mean, I don't, just for the record. But if the Savior is dying from hypothermia in the house I'm living in, it surely will be me who they'll blame, so I can't let that happen, can I?“

I'm babbling. It's a horrible habit of mine.

Potter's gaze seems to be fixed on my lips, his mouth hanging slightly open, brows drawn a little. His expression says „lost“.

„You're seriously still ignoring me?“ I cross my arms in front of my chest. „Fine, Potter. Then I'll leave you to it.“

I turn around, feeling humiliated and perplexed.

He gets up in one fluid motion and catches my wrist. I yank it away as if he'd have burned me.

Maybe I should still be worried, mute Potter or not. He's not much taller than me, if at all, but definitely more muscular and could probably take me down in a fistfight no problem.

„Let go of me!“

I cross my arms again, protectively this time. My heart is thudding in my chest.

Potter is fishing for something in the pocket of his worn jeans. Of course he's wearing muggle clothes. He pushes a small piece of paper into my hand. I eye it suspiciously. Potter avoids my gaze. I can see his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows and quickly look away.

I make a show of rolling my eyes as I'm unfolding the note. But when I read it, I can't keep up my bored facade.

 _I'm deaf_ , the note simply says, the paper smooth and soft from being folded and unfolded many times.

I look back at Potter. His eyes flicker over my face for a moment, then fixate on my eyes. And there it is, this stupid Gryffindor defiance.

„How... is that possible? You're a wizard.“

I have never met a deaf wizard. There are close to no injuries or illnesses regarding the ears that a healer couldn't cure.

Potter is looking at my lips again and I understand. He's trying to read them.

But he must apparently not be very good at it, because he seems lost once again.

I hesitate, then pull a muggle pencil out of my muggle trousers. Yes, I've fallen this far.

On the paper, I write: „How did it happen?“

Potter doesn't answer right away. I think he's not sure he wants to tell me. Afterall, it's none of my business.

But then, he takes the note and pencil from me and writes: „Curse. Field training.“

Right. Potter had been close to completing his Auror training.

Utterly unbidden, a surge of compassion overcomes me. I know what it's like to think you have it all and then it's all of a sudden brutally taken from you.

I hesitate once more. This is a bad idea. But do I even have a choice?

„I'd open the door for you, but I don't own a wand anymore, so that is not an option.“

I'm trying to speak slowly, but I'm still not sure Potter understands. To be safe, I write the important part on the piece of paper. I hardly get it all squeezed in the remaining space.

„Do you want to come with me?“

Potter seems ready to shake his head. Then hesitates. Sighs. Nods in defeat.

Having Harry Potter in my tiny, wretched apartment makes me self-concious.

But in this situation, he is the one in need, so I try not to obsess over it. Afterall, who cares what he thinks of me? He already hates me anyway.

„Tea?“

He seems to have understood, because he nods, taking in his surroundings.

I'm seeing the apartment through his eyes. A ratty couch, a small desk overflowing with parchment, all rolls scribbled on in tight, small handwriting to fit as many words as possible on one roll.

My bed is set up in the corner and I can see his eyes dart over it. I'm fighting the urge to blush.

He finally sits down on the couch, watching me preparing tea. When I return with two cups and a small bowl of sugar, I'm a bundle of nerves, almost dropping everything.

„So, Potter,“ I say after handing him his cup. „Did you forget your keys?“

I reach for a clean piece of parchment and write my question down.

Potter nods.

„Why do you live here of all places?“ I write, arching an eyebrow at him.

His pencil hovers over the parchment and his green eyes are flickering. „To escape public attention,“ he finally writes and I think I understand. It must be difficult for the Chosen One to suddenly become a charity case.

Not that I'd really think he is that, but I'm rather sure he does.

„Are you still working as an Auror?“ I don't have to write the question down – he understands. His lips curl in a wry smile that I am not to find sexy.

„The Aurors don't take disabled people,“ he writes.

„Their loss.“ I'm blushing, hoping he wasn't able to read my lips. „Is there a chance you might be able to hear again one day?“

He swallows as he reads my question. Shakes his head and stares into his tea.

My heart contracts and I hate myself for the effect he has on me. Still.

Probably mostly to distract from himself, he starts asking me questions. Only very reluctantly, I tell him about my writing. It's not like I could deny the piles of parchment right in front of his nose.

To my surprise, Potter is asking intelligent questions and seems to be genuinely interested in my work. Even though I'm sure he's just trying to pass time.

I don't get into too much detail – he doesn't need to know that it's essentially a dissertation on the Death Eater cult and Voldemorts vastly unknown life story. I haven't gotten very far with the latter.

When I finally get to ask him what he is doing now that he can't work anymore, our tea is barely even lukewarm anymore.

„I'm learning sign language,“ he writes.

„For how long?“ I ask, trying to hide how intrigued I am.

„Three months now,“ he writes and shrugs, taking a sip from his tea. His vibrant eyes study my face.

When my skin is starting to itch because of it, I blurt: „You could teach me.“

His eyebrows rise and I blush, looking away. I'm always such a fool around him, it's horrible.

„What was that?“ he writes.

„Forget it,“ I say and this, he understands. But he doesn't let it go, the stupid Gryffindor.

„Did you ask if I could teach you?“

„Why is that such a strange request?“ My pencil is flying over the paper.

„I bet everyone wants to learn sign language, now that the Savior is doing it.“

Harry lightly shakes his head, crooked smile on his lips once again.

„Not really,“ he writes.

I don't know what to answer to that, so I keep still and quiet, turning my head away.

A tap on my knee startles me, my attention turning to Potter again immediately. He makes some circle in the air, then something like a salute and points to him.

I realize that he's signing.

The next movements of his hands are difficult to follow. „What did you say?“

He grabs the parchment again. „Hello my name is...“ he writes.

My brows knit together in concentration. „Can you do it again?“

He does, and then again and then twice more until I'm able to copy him. As he gives me an approving nod, I can't suppress a proud smile.

We spend at least two hours with him teaching me how to sign, even though his own signing is still pretty rocky, as he puts it.

My brain is starting to get fuzzy and I keep forgetting the letters for even my own name. As I'm once more muddling my way through signing _Draco Malfoy_ , Potter suddenly reaches out, grinning broadly and holds my hands still.

At once, I can't breathe. His fingers are warm and rough and very strong and I feel almost dizzy as he's touching me.

He, apparently unaware of my distress, just smiles at me and starts bending my fingers into the right positions.

I eventually pull them away, my cheeks flaming. Pale skin really can be a curse sometimes. I can feel Potter's eyes on me, but don't meet his gaze.

„It's late,“ I say.

He nods.

„If you need to, you can sleep here,“ I write down.

It's not like I could just kick him out again, is it?

„You can have the couch,“ I then write and disappear into the bathroom first.

I try not to think about Potter seeing me in my pajamas. Not that they'd be revealing or anything like that – they cover me basically head to toe. But there is something oddly intimate about seeing someone in their nightwear. I feel vulnerable.

Hearing Potter brushing his teeth shouldn't make me this nervous.

„Good night,“ I say as he passes my bed.

He nods and signs something that probably means the same. I really need to get better at BSL, I think – only to be shocked about it a moment later. This is probably going to be the only real conversation I'll ever have with Potter.

There is no need to learn his stupid sign language when he doesn't want to talk to me anyway.

* * *

The first time I see Malfoy after what I call The Incident is two days later when I run into him in the hallway.

He looks like a startled animal, dropping his wallet. I pick it up for him.

„Thanks,“ I read from his lips. He won't look at me. I wish he would. Communicating is hard enough as it is when you're deaf – if the person you're trying to have a conversation with isn't even showing you their face, it becomes nearly impossible.

I tap his shoulder, a little impatiently. He looks up, gray eyes narrowed.

 _It's not like I'd_ like _to touch you_ , I want to snarl. _But being mute, what other choice do I have if I want to get your attention?_

He swallows and I can't help but notice how long and elegant his neck is. It's a weird thought and I quickly disregard it.

I fumble for the ever-present piece of parchment with which I have quickly developed a love-hate relationship. I need it and it saves my life, but I don't want to need it. I really don't want to need it.

„I just wanted to thank you,“ I write. „For that night.“

That night was weird, but nothing compared to the morning after.

I don't think I've ever went through such excrutiating awkwardness.

Or, well – the date with Cho at Madam Paddifoot's might top it, but not by much.

First thing I did after escaping Malfoy's apartment was riding the train to Ron and Hermione's apartment to ask her to open the door for me.

The saddest thing about this is that it's not even that humiliating anymore. Not compared to all the other things my two best friends have had to do for me already.  
If I'd known this would happen, I'd damn sure had paid more attention when Snape tried to teach us non-verbal spells. I suck at them so bad, I can hardly cast a Lumos, much less apparate or stupify someone.

„It's alright,“ Malfoy writes. And then he signs my lastname. P-O-T-T-E-R.

I can't stifle a surprised snort. Malfoy bites back a grin.

„Don't think you'd be rid of that now,“ he writes on the parchment.

„I'm impressed you even remember how to sign that,“ I scribble. „You suck at BSL.“

Malfoy's eyes go wide. „Hey!“

His soundless exclaim delivers almost as much indignance as his voice would have suggested.

„You'd need another lesson,“ I write.

I don't know why. I guess I'm more lonley than I thought.

It's just... Ron and Hermione do their best, but they have their own life and I can't always burst in and have Hermione teach me non-verbal spells. And Ginny... My girlfriend and I hardly seem to be talking anymore.

It's me, I know. I just can't bear to see the pity in her eyes.

And the disappointment when she rages about how unfair it is that I can't be an Auror anymore.

I know that it hit her almost as hard as it hit me. She loves me as an Auror.

Last time we talked (well, wrote about it), I exploded and wrote that it was perfectly understandable that Aurors don't take deaf people. It just isn't possible in the field.

And I don't want to be stuck behind a desk.

Malfoy looks at me. I think he's trying to decide if I'm being serious.

„Do you really think I have nothing better to occupy my time with?“ he writes, arching one regal brow at me.

I know he's working hard, even though I have no idea what job he might have. But whenever he is home, exhausted and frustrated, as it seems, I don't notice him leave his apartment.

I just shrug. Wait for his answer.

Surprisingly enough, I quite like teaching people my new language – if I can forget that they only have to even bother with it because of me, that is.

Ron and Hermione both have taken on the task with determined enthusiasm. Hermione, always up for an academical challenge, is frustrated that she doesn't pick it up faster.

Ron, on the other hand, is surprised that he's actually not as bad at it as we were all sure he would be. He hated Runes and when Hermione once tried to teach him a little bit of French, Ron gave up after two lessons.

But with BSL, Ron isn't such a bad student. I secretly find it adorable how upset he gets when he can't get the hang of one sign or the other. Unlike Hermione though, who then gets frantic and doesn't know what to say at all anymore, Ron mostly just laughs and starts signing gibberish – that I, more often than not, actually understand.

„I mean, it always does make a good impression to be educated in a broad variety of fields,“ Malfoy muses. I roll my eyes.

„When do you have time?“ he writes.

„Now?“

Malfoy looks at me as if I'd just suggested he perform a strip tease in the hallway.

„Why not?“ I sign and I don't think he can really understand it, but he gets the sentiment.

„Gryffindors,“ he mouths, shaking his head. I have no idea what he means by that, but I don't particularly care.

Whenever I pause to think about it, I wonder if I've finally gone completely insane. I'm hanging out with Malfoy of all people – and I don't hate it. I don't know why, but I enjoy every minute of our little sign-lessons.

Maybe it's simply because I'm so endlessly tired of pity and _oh-isn't-it-tragic_. All that fawning might have turned me into a masochist. Because, despite still vividly remembering how much I've hated Malfoy taunting me in school, I now find his snark... refreshing.

But, to be fair, it's not the same as it was in Hogwarts. He's still a git and insults me from time to time, but he doesn't go for low blows anymore. There is always an almost warmly ironic edge to his comments and I find myself really liking that

This is already our forth lesson and Malfoy being Malfoy, he insists on inventing a game: I have to answer every question he is able to sign.

„What do you want to work now?“ is the first question Malfoy chooses.

This one might not have been put very eloquently, but the meaning isn't misreadable.

I shrug and look away. „I don't know yet,“ I sign, movements a little curt.

„What about you?“ I ask, pointing at Malfoy afterwards to make sure he understands. He pauses. I'm not sure whether he doesn't want to answer or if he simply doesn't know how to sign it.

I know he sometimes pretends not to know how to answer something. I always slide the piece of parchment over to him then. That's what I do now as well.

„Paperwork for the Ministry. It's boring and futile,“ he writes and his expression makes it clear that he doesn't want to go into any more detail regarding this topic.

„My turn,“ Malfoy signs. I have to stifle a smile. This is definitely his favorite sign – his long fingers forming a perfect L (even though I think of it as a gun more than an L, since it'd be an L lying down) and turning inwards until they rest on his bony chest. When I do it, I usually don't touch my chest, but Malfoy likes to rest his hand there to make a point.

„Do you miss hearing?“ he signs. He's fingerspelling Hearing, which is against the rules. But he's a Slytherin – he cares for rules almost as much as Gryffindors do.

I look down. I can feel Malfoy shift on the couch. His quill is scribbling on the parchment. He pushes the piece over to me and I look into his eyes before I read it.

„I'm sorry if I overstepped.“

I flap my hand in a universal _it's-fine_ gesture.

„All the time,“ I sign as an answer.

„What do you miss most?“ Malfoy writes.

I hesitate for a moment, not able to comprehend why the first thought darting through my brain is: Your voice. „People's voices,“ I settle on.

Vivid gray eyes make me uncomfortable.

 _I get lonely like this. Since I can't speak anymore, people aren't listening_. I bite my lip and don't push the parchment over to Malfoy. I don't want him to read what I just wrote.

Except that a small part of me wants him to. Desperately.

Malfoy frowns and leans over, plucking the paper from my fingers. I could snatch it from him if I wanted to, but I let him read it.

His expression is hard to decipher. The last thing I want to see is pity. Some is there, I believe, but not much. It's more... understanding. A deep, profound understanding.

„You know the feeling?“ I sign.

Surprisingly, he seems to have understood. He is rather good at piecing together what I say, even when he doesn't know all the signs.

„Yes,“ he signs, then switches to writing again. „It's like that for me since the war ended. Everyone always only sees a Death Eater.“ He looks up and then signs, with a dry, almost sad smile: „People aren't listening to me either.“

I swallow as neither of us looks away. In the end, I'm the first to break eye contact.

„I also miss magic,“ I sign.

„Can't you speak at all anymore?“

I shake my head. The curse forbids it.

„Not good at non-verbal spells, are you, Potter?“ Malfoy writes and I glare at him.

„Careful,“ I sign, even though I'm pretty sure he doesn't know the sign.

„I could teach you.“

The offer is so unexpected that I read it twice before looking at Malfoy.

„Hermione already tried. I'm a hopless case,“ I write, trying for an ironic smile, but I'm not sure it lands.

„And what makes you think Granger is a better teacher than I am?“ Malfoy writes, simultaniously speaking the words. I remember the haughty tone of his voice.

Suddenly, I realize I'm never going to hear how Malfoy sounds when he's joking. When he's being gentle. When he laughs.

The knowledge shakes me to my core and I don't know why. I mean, the feeling itself, sure. It's horrible to never be hearing someone laugh again.

But why do I care about Malfoy's laugh specifically?

I maniacally search my brain, trying to remember whether I've ever heard him laugh before. Not really. Not with genuine joy.

I swallow. The weight of what I've lost crashes over me once again.

A gentle tap on my knee hauls me back into reality. Gray eyes are searching mine.

„Everything alright?“ Malfoy signs.

I hesitate. Just look at him. „I just really miss being able to hear,“ I sign and I don't think he understood it, not with the new sign I used or my messy movements.

„I'll teach you non-verbal spells,“ he mouths, slowly enough that I can read his lips.

At first, it's a disaster. I don't know what it is with me – I simply can't seem to be able to do magic without speaking. My wand is trembling in my hands, that's how tightly I grip it.

The words I want to say keep getting stuck in my throat, choking me until I can't breathe anymore. It's a side-effect of the curse, this choking feeling.

A hand comes to rest on my shoulder. I look at Malfoy.

„Don't try to speak,“ he signs. I frown. How does he know I'm trying to?

„You don't need words for this,“ he goes on. „That's the whole point.“

He fingerspells the last part and that makes me smile. Miraculously, Malfoy smiles back. The sight catches me off-guard. In all the hours we've spent together now, I've rarely, if ever, seen him really smile.

I try again. Nothing changes, except that I'm now actuely aware of Malfoy behind me, looking over my shoulder. It makes me nervous.

„You're still trying to speak,“ Malfoy signs and steps around me. I avert my eyes from his elegant fingers and try not to get angry. At myself, for being so fucking incapable.

A tap on my shoulder.

Malfoy extends both of his hands, palms facing the ground, thumbs extended. He moves them up and down.

 _Relax_.

I take a deep breath.

„Sorry,“ I sign.

„Try again,“ Malfoy signs. It's scary how he's already so good with the needed vocabulary.

This time, I feel something change. I let go of the words darting through my head, instead focusing on the movement of my wand, picturing what I want to happen in my mind.

I'm so surprised to see the cup actually lifting from the table that I drop it immediately. Malfoy looks like he's groaning as shards scatter over the table.

„Sorry!“ I sign, movements big.

Malfoy rolls his eyes and points at me. I'm not sure if he means I'm supposed to make this up to him somehow or if it's simply a warning to take better care and not destroy any more of his dishes.

Only when he pickes up the shards by hand and throws them in the trash, I realize that Malfoy doesn't have a wand.

I'm so stupid. How could I not have thought of that?

Malfoy isn't allowed to carry one anymore – not since the trials.

And yet here he is, helping me with non-verbal spells. I wonder whether it's painful for him to watch me perform magic.

I bet it is. Afterall, I find it painful to watch people cast in front of my eyes, knowing full well it might take years until I'm able to do spells this difficult again.

But Malfoy never will.

Strangely enough, the thought makes me sad.

„You seem happier,“ Hermione signs as I drop by for our weekly dinner.

I shrug. I don't think I'm ready yet to tell them about Malfoy.

Just as I think it, I wonder why I'm being so bitchy. Afterall, I've fallen from grace too, now, haven't I?

I bite my lip, then sign: „I'm getting better at non-verbal spells. Malfoy has been teaching me.“

I wait as the couple exchanges a quick look, confusion written all over Ron's features. I think he's asking Hermione: „I didn't get that right, did I? He didn't really spell _Malfoy_.“

I don't like it when people are talking in front of me, mostly too fast for me to read their lips. But I'm also aware I can't exactly tell them to act like they'd be mute now too.

„Did you say Malfoy?“ Hermoine asks me, her hands a little frantic already.

I nod.

„How did that happen?“ she signs and I'm not sure what she's thinking.

„He's living in my house.“

„And you didn't tell us?“ Ron is clearly indignant.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer.

„It's not like a big thing. We're just hanging out sometimes because we're neighbors and both bored,“ I sign.

I'm met with looks of confusion and Hermione summons the chart she made for sign language.

Sighing, I fumble for the dreaded piece of paper and write my words down.

The moment I step into Ginny's apartment, I know something is wrong. She's fidgeting and keeps sneaking glances at me only to quickly look away.

„We need to talk,“ she writes. Ginny isn't good at sign language. She really tried in the beginning, I know that, but she's never been good with languages. Eventually, she got so frustrated that we switched to writing.

I raise my brows and motion for her to go ahead. She bites her lip, then meets my gaze evenly.

I know what she's going to say before she actually writes it down.

„This isn't working anymore. I want to break up.“

I keep staring at the words for some more moments after I've read them, trying to think of a response.

It's not like this is coming completely out of the blue. I know that I've been difficult lately, all frustrated and restless. And she was being pushy. Almost presumptuous in her attempts to help me, to get me „back on track“.

Still, I didn't think we were really about to break up. We've been through so much together – this should be childsplay.

But it's not, I think we're both realizing that only now.

„Why?“ I finally write.

She sighs, her brown eyes sad. „You're pushing me away,“ she writes.

My brows draw together. „I don't think you're being fair.“

I feel stupid, passing this terrible paper between us, not looking at each other while we're „talking.“ It makes me want to scream.

Ginny hesitates. I know she knows that she's not. Not entirely.

„It's not only you. It's me too. I just don't feel like -“ she erases the last part with a flick of her wand. „Things between us aren't working anymore. In any regard,“ she settles on.

I huff out a bitter laugh I can't hear. It still is strange to feel it only as vibrations in my chest and throat. „So this is about sex now?“ My handwriting is even worse now than usually – my hands are shaking lightly.

„Amongst other things, yes,“ Ginny writes, brows furrowed as she looks at me.

I know things haven't been good lately. And I know it's more me than it is her.

This is one thing I don't think I can blame on my deafness, at least not completely. It wasn't good even before that happened.

I don't know why. I thought it was maybe complacency starting to sneak its way into our relationship, or perhaps still the aftermath of the war.

Only before I was injured, it simply wasn't... _great_ anymore. It wasn't so bad that one of us actually said something. I think we silently agreed on giving it all a little more time, hoping to reignite the old flame.

The thing is, it's hard for me to judge how good the sex has been to begin with. Ginny was my first, and my only.

„You're breaking up with me because I can't talk dirty to you anymore?“ I write, giving her my best sarcastic face.

She meets my gaze unabashedly. „Yes. It's one of very many things that make me think we're just not a match anymore.“

I look away and crumple the paper between my fingers. Ginny reaches for me, but I pull my hand away.

„Just leave,“ I sign and she probably can't read it, but my stance and expression is unmistakable.

„You're in my apartment, Harry,“ she writes in the air, with her wand. So she's mocking me now?

Abruptly, I stand and head for the door, not once looking back.

* * *

After five meetings with the Chosen One, I slowly start to become a little less suspicious.

And yet, when it finally happens and he ditches me without even telling me in advance, it comes as a small shock.

I'm sitting on my couch, legs crossed, hands clasped around my mug and try to convince myself that this is alright – actually, it's for the best. It was about time we stop this ridiculous... _thing_ , whatever it was, we had going.

It's only hurt pride, I'm telling myself, staring into my tea.

My crush on Potter is so long past, I barely remember it anymore. Left in the dust. No trace to be found anywhere in my brain.

I'm such a liar.

I lean back with an exhale, my face twisting. I can't help but remember.

Seeing Potter for the first time as a tiny, scrawny eleven-year-old was a small revelation. I never felt something of the sort before – this instant desire to get to know him, to be close.

Him refusing my offer for friendship and me mistaking hurt feelings for hatred. Taunting Potter for years and years, not knowing what to do with his terrible ache in my chest, this urge to touch him. And then, the worst – in fifth year, when Blaise had long started casting privacy charms almost every night and sometimes in the mornings too and Pansy was snogging Theo Nott in hidden alcoves and I was wondering what was wrong with me – why didn't I want to go around kissing girls? Why did I not even feel the need to wank?

I started pretending I would, so no one would call me a freak.

Just as I started to believe I was some sort of great abnormality, I saw Potter in the showers. He wasn't even fully naked when I walked in on him after Quidditch practice. There was a red towel slung aroud his hips. Droplets of water clung to his bare chest and shoulders, his hair wet and no glasses hiding his striking eyes.

I managed a sneer while inside, I was burning up.

He was the fuel for my first conscious orgasm – hidden in the darkness of the Slytherin dormitories, blanket crumpled around my waist, fist working furiously and my left arm thrown over my face.

After that, I couldn't stop looking at him. It was worse than ever before because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't deny any longer that what I felt when his eyes met mine wasn't hatred.

I mean, it _was_ – I hated him. I hated him for making me feel things that I didn't want to feel, things I thought of as shameful and forbidden. Mostly though, I hated him for not wanting me back.

Part of me was almost glad for not really having the headspace to think about sex or relationships in sixth year. Not that the alternative wasn't way worse, but at least I was saved from causing my own dick to fall off due to too much furious wanking over Harry fucking Potter.

And still, when I already thought that all foolish infatuation for Potter was long gone, I saw him at Malfoy Manor, ugly and barely recognizable, but all I thought was that I couldn't let him die. It felt like my world might end if I did.

After the trials though, I was so confident I was over him. I saw him in the Prophet from time to time, once or twice with the Weasley girl. And I knew I had to let it go.

I thought I did.

Afterall, it's not even like I want to be with him. I'm still not sure what to think about the whole, well... gay-thing. I mean, my father is locked up in Azkaban and no one can tell me who to date anymore, but – I don't know. I'm not sure I want to be like that.

And why am I even thinking about that? Potter ditched me. It's over now. The next time I run into him, I'll just nod politely and then get on with my life.

I'm deep in my studies when it knocks on the door.

My heartrate is spiking immediately and I try to calm it. It's probably just some other neighbor who needs sugar or something like that.

It's not.

It's Potter. And he's obviously drunk. I bite my lip.

„Can I come in?“ he signs and his movements are sloppy.

I hesitate.

Having drunk men who despise me in my house has never worked all that well for me.

„Please?“

I sigh and let Potter in. „What are you doing here? You ditched me earlier,“ I sign. I know I keep surprising him with how good I already am at BSL. Little does he know I spend more or less my whole workday secretly learning it. I'll take that secret to my grave. Let Potter think I'm just a natural.

„Sorry for that,“ he signs, dropping onto my couch.

„Why are you drunk?“ This time, I have to write it down. I don't know the sign for „drunk“.

Potter gives me a wry look, eyes shadowed and clouded from alcohol. „Ginny broke up with me.“

I swallow. „And why would the She-Weasel dump the mighty Savior?“ I write.

Potter narrows his eyes.

„Stop mocking me,“ he writes.

I almost feel bad. But I need to do something to conceal how much these news affect me.

„Apparently I'm a shit boyfriend,“ he signs. I don't understand what his hands are saying next.

I hand him the paper.

„And absolutely crap in bed since I'm deaf.“

A pathetic, strangled noise escapes my throat and I have never been this relieved that Potter can't hear it.

He must be completely wasted if he's talking to me about his sex life now.

„I mean, I get it,“ he signs. „Dirty talk is sexy and I can't do it anymore.“

I know there are ugly pink blotches on my cheeks now. Potter seems to notice them and sighs, a breathy exhale of air. „Sorry. I talk too much,“ he signs and I just shake my head, not knowing what to answer.

Knowing I'm in danger of making a fool of myself, I sign, hesitantly: „But can't you sign in bed too?“

I'm sure that there is another sign for „in bed“, for how I mean it, but Potter gets it, even in his drunk state.

At his raised brows, I hastily continue – this time in written form. „It certainly isn't ideal, but it's not like you wouldn't be able to commuincate?“

Potter tilts his head, looking at me way too attentively. „It's not the same,“ he signs.

I guess I'm just going to shut my foolish mouth now.

But really, it is all Potter's fault, bringing this up. We don't have that kind of relationship.

„And Ginny doesn't like sign language,“ he continues.

I throw him a look. „That is strange, considering her boyfriend is deaf.“

Potter smiles wryly at the parchment before looking up at me again.

„Ex-boyfriend,“ he mouths and I wonder whether he doesn't know the sign for this and can't be bothered to write, or maybe isn't able to in his drunken state, but I'm mesmerized by his lips.

„Well, I'm sure you won't stay single for long,“ I write, glad that I can't be looking at him while writing. „Witches are certainly already tripping over their own feet in their haste to get a piece of the Chosen One.“

Potter sighs and rests his head on his arm slung over the armrest, one leg tucked under. He has to lift his head again to sign: „I don't want someone like that.“

It's a misconception often made about the Chosen One: He doesn't like attention. I still find it strange, at least a little. I guess I'm such a whore for people looking at me that it's difficult for me to understand how someone does not like to be the center of attention.

I do, however, get that he isn't looking for a partner that is unable to see him as a person instead of a hero.

When I surface again, temporarily lost in thoughts, Potter is sleeping. Indignant, I shake his shoulder. He blinks at me. „What?“

„You were falling asleep,“ I say and I can see he has trouble reading my lips. His eyelids are fluttering again.

„Potter,“ I fingerspell. I almost don't have to think about in anymore.

He opens his eyes again.

„Call me Harry,“ he signs.

I swallow, staring at him. It's not like I'd be using his name very often while signing. Fingerspelling takes time. It wouldn't change much if I simply nodded.

But it feels like much.

„Will you leave if I do?“ I write, not knowing how to sign it.

Potter rolls his eyes. Nods.

„Okay,“ I sign and scoot away, hoping he'll get the cue and vacate my couch. He doesn't.

Instead, his fingers close around my wrist. I look at him, biting my lips.

The finger of his dominant hand points to his mouth, then he moves it down and forward.

I swallow. He signed: „Say it.“

„You can't hear it,“ I sign, my mouth dry.

Potter doesn't answer. Just keeps looking at me. Then he repeats the sign.

I roll my eyes even though I feel weird and out of it, not at all haughty.

„Harry,“ I say. It's strange, hearing my own voice in the quiet room. Unbidden, memories from years ago press forward, demanding my attention. I've said his given name before, in quiet rooms where no one could hear me. It was usually either on a breathy exhale or a shout.

Potter's eyes are glued to my lips as I say his name and shivers are running down my spine. I can't help but stare at him.

He smiles. „I like when you say my name,“ he signs and while I have a near death experience, Harry falls asleep.

* * *

I wake up with a pounding headache and instantly remember while I usually don't drink. My neck is a little stiff, but the blanket I'm covered with smells almost sinfully good.

I blink my eyes open and slowly lift my head.

The sight I'm met with is equally odd and endearing.

A bare-footed, pajama-clad Draco with tousled hair is leaning against his small kitchen counter, watching me warily.

„Look who woke up,“ he says. It's easy to read his lips when he's speaking so slowly and well-pronounced.

I lift my shoulder in a sheepish shrug. I didn't really intend to crash at his apartment for the night. Obviously, I must have been drunker than I was aware.

„Slept well?“ I sign and Draco looks at me as if I'd have grown a second head. I slowly peel the blanket off myself and stand up. As soon as I do, my stomach makes a worrying flip.

„Sorry for invading your home,“ I sign and he just keeps looking at me with that tiny frown between his eyebrows. I have the ridiculous urge to smooth it with my fingertip.

„I'll head downstairs,“ I sign, not looking at him. I think he nods and I hastily push past him.

To my relief, the awkwardness between Draco and I is quickly fading.

Winter is approaching in fast steps, the rainfalls becoming colder and the air in Draco's apartment stale because he doesn't want to open the windows anymore.

It's a late December evening when I'm once again curled up on Draco's couch. We've just finished with practicing non-verbal spells and I'm sipping the tea Draco made, amused still by the amount of sugar Draco always puts in his.

Our elbows are almost touching on the armrest and I'm smiling as Draco tells me a funny story about one of his coworkers. They are all rather atypical figures.  
I'm watching Draco's hands move and the expressions quickly changing on his face as he signs and I don't even notice that I stop paying attention to his words. Instead, I trace the shape of his mouth with my gaze. Let it wander over the bridge of his nose. It's a cute nose. Perfect, even.

I swallow, tensing slightly. Maybe I should stop looking at him like that.

But then he stands up to get more tea and I can't tear my eyes away from his body. His legs are long and skinny, his shoulders rather slim. I'm mesemerized by his ass as he walks. It's not big or anything, but the shape is lovely.

I'm staring at Draco Malfoy's ass.

I choke on my tea as the realization hits me. Draco turns around, raising an eyebrow as I'm coughing and hoping that I won't spit on his couch.

The breakup must have really gotten to me. Or maybe I just desperately need to get laid.

It's probably a mixture out of both.

I mean... I'm not interested in boys. And if I was, Draco Malfoy would be the last person I wanted to shag.

Wouldn't he?

I sneak another glance at him. His platinum blond hair is definitely an eye-catcher and, yes, his face is undeniably pretty, but... Jesus. He's not drop-dead gorgeous. Right?

I swallow. He's too skinny, I try to tell myself. He doesn't even really look like a man yet.

Maybe that's it. Maybe Draco is so feminine that my brain got confused.

One more look at him and I have to stop fooling myself. There is definitely something feminine about Draco, but he's undeniably a guy. A guy with long legs and gray eyes and someone help, what the hell is wrong with me?

„Everything alright?“ Draco signs and I force a smile.

„Yeah, I just... it's late,“ I sign, aware that my hands are fluttery, that I can't meet Draco's eyes.

I basically flee his apartment, feeling Draco's stare burning in my back.


	2. Chapter 2

The deeply unsettling realization that some part of me seems to be attracted to Draco Malfoy has me resorting to desperate measures.

Well, I guess for most people, going to a club to pull wouldn't fall under the category of desperate measures, but for me, this is a first.

I have never gone out with the intention to take someone home. I haven't gone out very much at all, fullstop. Not while I was underage and then was the war and then, I was with Ginny. We did go out a couple times together, but I was never a huge fan of it and didn't see the point.

I was thinking about asking Ron to come with me, but for once, I know that – even though Hermione is completely okay with it – he always feels weird going clubbing without her. And I'm also not sure that I want Ron to know I'm looking to get laid only weeks after Ginny dumped me. Worst case would be him asking questions. I'd rather face another Hungarian Horntail before telling Ron that I'm having sex dreams about Draco Malfoy.

So I end up going alone.

I instantly regret my decision. I think it would have been strange in any case, but being deaf makes it ten times worse.

I didn't really think about that I'd have to order my own drinks. The bartender gives me weird looks when I only point at the menu to indicate which drink I'd like.

But there is something really awesome I discover while sitting at the bar, sipping on my firewhiskey and feeling terribly misplaced: I might not be able to hear the music, but I can feel it. The bass is drumming in my chest and I press a hand to my breastbone, amazed by the feeling. I have never before paid much attention to it, but now it's almost like I can hear again. At least a little bit.

I'm halfway through my first drink when I notice a girl checking me out – rather obviously.

She's not bad – long brown curls, a cute face and an impressive cleavage.

I try for a smile.

It's truly only when she smiles back at me that I'm struck by the realization that I have no idea how to flirt. I mean, that would be true as a general statement as well, but especially considering I'm fucking _deaf_. And mute.

How am I supposed to even talk to her?

I hurry to return my gaze to my drink, heart pounding and palms sweating.

When the girl comes over to me, I almost stop breathing. I can see her lips moving, but my anxiety muddles my brain and I can't read them.

I point to my ear and shake my head with an apologetic smile. The girl's eyebrows rise. Her mouth forms a perfect O.

She smiles and then turns around, going back to her stool.

White hot embarrassment is washing over me. I wish nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

„Why are you in such a foul mood today?“ Draco signs, sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing me.

I think I should work on my level of honesty because I'm answering truthfully.

„I don't know how to flirt. Being deaf,“ I hastily add.

Draco doesn't need to know that my flirting skills have never been very advanced.

Something in the blond's face closes off and I almost wish I could take my words back, just so he'd smile at me again.

„I'm sure the Savior doesn't need to ask me for flirting tips,“ he signs, movements clipped. Almost angry.

„Stop calling me that.“ It annoys me like not much else.

„I'll call you whatever I want, Potter,“ he signs.

Our eyes lock for a brief moment. I wonder whether he is thinking the same as me. Whether he remembers as vividly as I do.

„Harry,“ I fingerspell, gaze on him.

Draco rolls his eyes and looks away, but he can't hide the blush on his cheeks.

„What about you?“ I ask.

Head tilted, Draco gives me a look. „What do you mean?“

„Do you have a girlfriend?“

I'm sure I would have seen her by now or that he'd have mentioned her. But Draco is just so... handsome. I'm sure there is no lack of interested candidates.

Draco glares at me. „I do not.“

I shrug and smile, wanting to show him that it's okay.

„Weren't you with Parkinson at Hogwarts?“ I sign, genuinely curious.

Draco inspects his fingers before he slowly shakes his head.

„What does she do now?“ I ask.

Gray eyes are like steel as they find mine. „She's a prostitue,“ he signs, fingerspelling the last word.

I don't know what to answer.

„Why are you so surprised? Surely you've noticed that there aren't many jobs for Death Eaters to choose from.“

Draco's fingers are moving fast. He's agitated. Maybe even mad.

„I'm sorry,“ I sign, looking into his eyes.

He won't meet my gaze. „It's not your fault. And she definitely makes more money than I do. Maybe I should have chosen the same path. I -“

I reach for him, my fingers closing around his. I shake my head, eyes locked on his.

His beautiful long neck is exposed as Draco tilts his head back a little, eyes huge.

I keep holding his hands still for a few more moments.

When I let go, part of me is keening.

I wake up the next morning rock hard, wanking in a cruel pace, coming after an embarrassing small amount of strokes.

With a sigh, I fall back, hand and stomach sticky.

I've lost count on how many sex dreams I've had about Draco. I think I don't want to know. And I don't want to think about how I'm able to come in seconds just by thinking about Draco's lean, pale body rubbing against my own.

Maybe it's the Gryffindor in me that decides it's time to face the facts: I'm attracted to guys. I don't know if it means I'm gay or bi or whatever, but this is getting out of hand. One time? Alright. Two times? Still doesn't have to mean anything. But well over ten dreams, even I can't deny it anymore.

It's not like it would be a bad thing. It's just... one more thing making me different, I guess.

I sigh again, slinging an arm over my face to block out the light.

I'm just praying that it's merely a coincidence that, of all people, Draco Malfoy is the one awakening those new desires in me.

Being around Draco is like riding a broom for the first time: Exhilarating with the constant fear of falling.

I'm craving Draco's company more and more and yet, I'm getting tongue-tied around him. Or finger-tied. Whatever.

I can't stop thinking about all the things I want to do to him and I don't even really know what those things are. But whenever I watch him taking a sip from his tea, I want to lick his lips, slip my tongue into his mouth and taste the sweet liquid there. When he stretches his back, I want to put my hands under his shirt, expose his belly and press kisses to it.

It's getting so bad that I'm basically sporting a semi-hard-on at most times I'm around him.

„I want to get a job,“ I sign for Hermione as I'm leaning against her kitchen counter, helping her with dinner.

She nods. „Good idea.“

I'll go crazy if I can't find something to distract myself with.

„But I just don't know what I could do,“ I sign, looking at the chopped carrots rather than Hermoine.

„I'm sure there are several things you can do,“ Hermione writes on a magical board she's taken to carry around whereever she goes. I don't mind it – the idea is sweet.

„What things?“

„I mean, what would you like to do?“

That's the problem. I have no idea. When I say so, Hermione doesn't seem all too concerned.

„Well, what are your strengths?“ she signs, looking at me with a smile.

I shrug. „I'm good at DADA, but I can't be an Auror anymore,“ I sign.

„DADA isn't the only thing you're good at.“

Hermione puts her frizzy hair in a resolute ponytail. I always flinch when I watch her pulling her hair up – it looks painful.

„I mean...“ My hands hover in the air. What am I good at? I don't know. Quidditch, I guess, but do I really want to do that professionally? I don't think so.

„What do you enjoy doing?“ Hermione asks before turning her attention back to the carrots.

I take my time to think about it. Then, slowly, I sign: „I guess I kinda like teaching.“

The bright smile Hermione gives me makes it clear that this is the answer she was waiting for. „You're a brilliant teacher,“ she signs.

„But I don't know if I want to go live at Hogwarts. If they'd even have me, that is. Being deaf and all.“

„You wouldn't have to teach at Hogwarts,“ she writes on her board with a flick of her wand, busy stirring the sauce. Before she burns it, I take the cooking spoon from her hands. There's a reason why Ron usually cooks. They have yet to officially move in together, but Ron spends almost every night at Hermione's apartment.

„Where else would I teach?“

She shrugs. „I'm sure there are several possibilities. For example, some kids can't attend Hogwarts for medical reasons. Then there are classes for graduates who are studying for their future jobs... I can look into it for you, if you'd like.“

I shake my head and put a hand on her shoulder. Hermione is busy enough with her internship at the Ministry – and I have more than enough time on my hands.

* * *

„That's a great idea,“ I sign, giving Harry an encouraging smile. He would make a great teacher. The beam on his face shouldn't get to me the way it does.

„If it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't have considered it,“ he signs.

„Why?“

„Teaching you sign language has been so much fun.“ He smiles at me and my heart does a weird, lingering flip.

„Are you sure the reason for that isn't mostly the great student you have?“ I sign, acting cocky even though my heart is pounding loud in my chest.

Harry rolls his eyes. Grins. „Probably.“

His green eyes are locked on mine and I'm all out of breath, I don't know why. My whole body is hurting, so desperate for his touch.

This ugly couch I picked up from Pansy's old flat has become my favorite place in the world. I could sit here and stare at him for hours, our legs almost touching.

„Do you want me to promote you? Tell everyone how great of a teacher you are?“ I ask mockingly.

Harry very lightly punches my shoulder. Then, his fist opens and his fingers curl around my shoulder. I feel faint.

When he leans forward, my brain stops working. There is nothing but his face getting closer and then, there is no distance at all between us anymore, lips pressing on mine.

I'm too shocked at first to do anything. Then, Harry draws back just a little, eyes on mine, checking for my reaction. I snap out of it and there is no holding back anymore. Something inside of me breaks and my hands fly up, one tangling into his hair, the other on his jaw and I'm kissing him with all I got.

I have no idea how to do this. I've never kissed anyone before. But all I can think about is him and my urge to get closer, impossibly closer, melt into him until we're one body, nothing between us.

He pulls me closer, gathers me in his arms, hands stroking my back, my sides.

I half-climb into his lap and he laughs soundlessley against my lips, arms locking around my waist to keep me there. Mindlessly, I keep pressing kisses to his lips, not knowing how to do this, what to do.

One of his hands comes up to my jaw and makes me still. I do, breathless, heart hammering.

He brings his mouth close to mine again, so that I can feel his breath. Gently, he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, pulling just a little.

I make a horribly embarrassing sound and I think he can feel it through my mouth, my throat.

He locks our lips again and parts mine with his, then tentatively flicks his tongue over the inside of my bottom lip. When my tongue touches his for the first time, my mind goes blissfully blank.

I let him lick into my mouth, moaning. It feels like he's claiming me and all my morals, all my shame, are sent flying out of the window under the hot pressure of his tongue.

When he pulls back, I don't want to let him go. He grins up at me. His hands disappear from my back and I have to scoot back on his lap a little so he can sign.

„That was better than I expected.“

I blink. This is not what I hoped to hear.

„I wasn't sure if I'm really attracted to guys, but... that is a yes.“

I stare at him and then almost fall in my hurry to get off his lap. He steadies me with one hand, frowning.

„Careful,“ he signs.

I swallow, my heart slamming against my ribcage. „This was you testing whether you're gay or not?“

I'm sure my signing isn't correct, but I don't care and he seems to understand.

„I was pretty sure already,“ he signs and my heart shatters, just a tiny bit. My lips are still prickling and my mouth tastes like his tongue.

„Get out,“ I sign.

Harry blinks, his eyes darting over my face.

„What did I do?“ he asks.

„Get out!“ This time, I shout the words.

He gets up, looking at me with huge eyes. „I'm sorry, if -“

I pointedly turn away, not watching his hands.

„Get out,“ I say again, knowing he can read my lips.

Harry does without further objection.

I don't let Harry in when he comes knocking at my door the next evening. And the one after that.

I spend a lot of time curled up on my bed, hating myself. I'm such a fucking fool. I always have been around Harry fucking Potter.

I should have never let him kiss me.

I should have never let him into my home, my life. Don't I know by now that he swoops in, stirrs everything up and then leaves me shaken?

The last thing I need is for him to take what little I have built for myself. And he sure as hell doesn't need to own any part of me. I've spent almost all my life as someone's toy – first my father's, who tried to make me into the man he wanted me to be and then, when he saw that he couldn't, let all of his anger out on me.

Then Voldemort, who tortured me and used my mother as leverage, making me a puppet on his strings.

And through all of that, there was always Harry Potter who, if he'd had tried, could have had me anytime, any way he'd wanted to.

I press my knuckles into my eyes as I force myself to realize the truth of that. I would have done everything for him. All along. I would have let him have me in secret, if he'd wanted me. I would have let him let out his aggression on me too, because I'd have taken anything, anything at all just to be close to him. He cut my chest open, almost killing me and it didn't stop me from wanting him.

In his defense, I struck first – he couldn't have known that my Cruciatus would have remained powerless.

I never wanted to hurt him. Not really.

„You're a pathetic slut, Draco Malfoy,“ I say into the empty room.

It's enough. It's time to show a little self-respect and move on.

* * *

Draco avoids me. I hardly see him at all and whenever our paths do cross in the hallway, he is quick to disappear into his apartment or leave the building.

I'm getting desperate – sending him owls just so he'd talk to me. I never get an answer.

It takes me more than a week to admit it, but in the end, I can't run from it anymore.

I miss Draco. I miss talking to him, miss his quick fingers and gray eyes. I miss sipping tea with him on his couch and having him call me stupid.

And maybe, I also miss kissing him. I don't know what it means that kissing him was like everyone says snogging a Veela is – mind-blowing. A kiss to me has never felt like this.

Kissing Ginny has always been nice. I enjoyed it. But it wasn't like this. Not at all.

Does that mean I'm gay? Does kissing always feels like this? Have I been doing it with someone of the wrong gender all this time?

But I don't know. I did sleep with Ginny and I _did_ like it. Even though I'm now reevaluating what „liking it“ means, I never had a problem getting into it with her. Would I even have been able to get hard if I was gay?

Maybe I'm bi? And prefer guys or something? Perhaps it would be smartest to find another boy, someone cute and blond and up for a hook-up and then decide how I like it.

And if maybe, it's really just Draco who I like and not the fact that he is a guy.

I'm in the hallway, carrying two heavy shopping bags with groceries, when the front door opens and Draco enters.

He's not alone. A man that seems a few years older than us is holding his hand, smiling down at Draco. He's tall and handsome with a stubble and crisp shirt.

Probably muggle, but I can't be sure.

When Draco sees me, he freezes for a moment.

I feel stupid how I'm standing there, shopping bags in hand, fumbling for my keys.

Draco finally gives a small nod at me. His escort eyes me curiously. Draco turns to him and says something. He signs the words at the same time, so that I understand what they're talking about. If I wasn't feeling so thrown, the sweet gesture would touch me.

„This is Harry, my neighbor. Harry, this is Cole.“

The guy smiles at me and extends his hand. I don't take it, having the shopping bags as an excuse. I try for a smile, but I'm sure it's more a grimace. Cole's eyes dart between me and Draco and I don't know why I despise him so much.

„Well, I'll see you around,“ Draco signs, not looking at me.

I look after them as they ascend the stairs. My mouth tastes like ashes.

I throw myself into applications for internships with various kinds of teachers – someone who teaches DADA classes for aspiring Aurors, a witch specializing in teaching kids younger than eleven everything a wizard needs to know before attending Hogwarts and a guy homeschooling children with special needs who aren't able to go to Hogwarts.

It's the only thing that keeps me from going completely insane.

I don't know why I'm making such a fuss. I don't know why I feel like throwing up every time Cole is entering or leaving the building. I don't know where the anger curling in my belly is coming from whenever I catch a glimpse of Draco's platinum hair.

It gets so bad that I lose my appetite. I scream into my pillow at night, not hearing myself and hating everything about me, from my useless ears to my useless mouth to that stupid, stupid decision to kiss Draco that night. It has destroyed everything and I'm still not quite sure how and why.

Draco is still the star of my every wanking fantasy and it drives me insane. I don't want to think about his gray eyes dazed from kissing when I touch myself. I don't want to think about his legs wrapped around me when heat is curling in my belly, orgasm building. I don't want to have his name stuck in my throat, choking me, when I come over my own fist.

Ron and Hermione are worried about me, I can feel it. They both seem to have a pretty solid suspicion what sort of problems I'm wrestling with. I don't think they know that Draco is the cause.

I reach rock bottom on a Friday night, seeing Cole enter our house with a smug and almost predatory grin on his face, a bouquet of roses in his hand. It's crystal clear what he came here to do. I wonder if he'll get it. If Draco will let him. If he already has.

Thinking about Draco kissing Cole, taking off his clothes, about Cole pushing Draco on the bed – it sends a lightning of pain through my chest.

With a dooming, sinking feeling, it clicks.

I'm jealous.

It's as simple as that. I'm jealous of Draco's boyfriend.

I hit my head against the wall and scream soundlessly. At least I hope it's soundless. Sometimes it's hard to tell when you can't hear your own voice.

I'm back at the club – this time, a gay one. I'm desperate and beyond shame now. I don't care if I'll get rejected. I need someone to take the edge off, to help me forget Draco, if only for one night.

The bass is heavy in my chest and I down two shots before I enter the dancefloor.

My confidence boosted by the liquor, I allow my body to move to the bassline I can feel in my bones.

I quickly realize that men approach sex in a way less subtle fashion than women do. In no time, I have muggles coming at me, bodies pressing against mine, eyes flashing.

This is easier than I thought.

And intimidating. I draw back just a little and allow myself to scan the crowd.

My decision lands on a pretty guy with dark hair and an amazing ass. I'm lucky enough that he seems to find me suitable as well and when I communicate that I'm deaf, he's not too put out.

Afterall, we didn't come here for talking.

I find myself pressing him against the dirty wall of a loo, bass not quite as heavy in my body anymore.

Kissing this guy isn't like kissing Draco was, but it's good enough for now. His nose ring makes for an interesting new sensation and when I find him hard for me, I growl against his lips, which he seems to find hot.

When he's sliding to his knees in front of me, undoing my denims, I swallow. Maybe this isn't how I should do it, but I don't care anymore. Love hasn't really worked out for me so far and if this is all I can get, I'll take it.

The boy whose name I've already forgotten licks wet stripes over my skin and then, with a flutter of lashes, takes me into his mouth.

My eyes fall shut as he sucks me and _damn_ , he must have done this a few times before. He's better at it than Ginny and I feel guilty the second the thought flickers through my brain.

It's weird, having this done to me and not hearing any of the wet noises I know are there. I can't hear if he's moaning or enjoying himself or anything.

But it's still good and when I come, he doesn't bat a lash and swallows all of it.

Afterwards, when he stands, a smirk on his swollen lips, I get him off with my hand and marvel at the line of his throat as he throws his head back. Thinking about someone else's throat. Someone else coming undone under my hands.

All three internships I've applied for offer me a spot. The perks of being the Chosen One, I guess.

I'm sitting on my desk, the three letters in front of me, trying to decide what I want to do. Which of them interests me the most, which is the most promising.

They all intrigue me, for very different reasons. The most obvious choice would, of course, be the DADA for Auror trainees. It's something I'm almost sure I'd be good at and it's closest to my former career choice. And yet, I find it a charming idea to work with little children, teaching things that aren't so dark, having a little more fun with it. But am I really good with kids? The only one I know is my godson and he is too little to really count. My only takeaway from spending time with him is that changing diapers isn't so great and a baby smiling at you can make your day.

As for homeschooling kids with special needs... I think I'd either love it or hate it. I've never worked with students who weren't what is considered the norm. I don't know if I'm capable of teaching someone magic who has a different disposition than I do. But I can't deny I'd be curious to learn more about it. I also like the idea to have a closer relationship with those students than you can have when you're teaching classes.

But I'll only be able to take one of the three. Well, maybe I could ask whether I might do another one later on. It would be worth a try, I guess.

Still, I need to make a decision which one I like best.

And I want Draco to help me with it.

I bury my face in my hands as I realize the intensity of that wish – and what it means.

I don't merely want to fuck Draco to see what it's like. I genuinely _like_ the Slytherin. I don't know why.

Or, actually, I do. I like Draco because he's frighteningly smart and witty. He's sarcastic and thoughtful and he's not afraid to make fun of me. He's gorgeous and sexy and sweet and I... have a huge problem. Because Draco has a boyfriend and is obviously not interested in me anyway.

I bite my lip to keep from crying.

„Harry... for real?“

Ron looks like he is in pain.

I rub my neck and look down.

„You don't know him,“ I sign and see Ron sigh and ruffle his hair.

„Do you?“ Hermione asks, her eyes filled with way too much worry.

I hesitate. „I feel like I do.“

Ron nudges Hermione and she speaks the words for him. I watch them.

It could have been worse.

I didn't really plan to tell them – it just came pouring out of me as I was with them, my heart hurting with every beat, unable to deny it any longer. I like Draco and I've realized it too late.

„I'm not going to tell you who to date,“ Hermione signs. „But I'd advice you to really think about it.“

I smile wryly. „It doesn't matter now anyway. He's with someone else.“

I run into Ginny at Bill's and Fleur's baby shower – or the Weasley's interpretation on the occasion. There is a lot of food and butterbeer and everyone congratulates the happy couple.

Ginny looks pretty in her tight jeans and cozy sweater and yet, it doesn't do anything for me. But I do notice that she's throwing me looks. And smiles.

It's late when I retreat to Ron's room, just to get a little privacy. After hours of watching Bill and Fleur together and then Ron and Hermione, who got steadily more cozy as Ron's alcohol level rose, I just... needed a minute.

Ginny follows me.

„How are you doing?“ she asks, leaning in the doorframe, red hair like flames around her shoulders.

I don't know what she wants to hear. That I'm missing her? That I'm doing great without her and she made the right decision?

„I'm fine,“ I sign and she steps closer. Sits next to me on the bed. I can smell her – familiar and earthy.

„I'm sorry for dumping you without warning,“ she writes on a piece of paper she apparently brought with her.

I roll my eyes, then stare straight ahead. „I don't need your pity,“ I sign, not caring that she can't understand it.

She touches my shoulder, makes me look at her.

„Harry,“ I read from her lips. „I miss you,“ she signs and then her lips are so close to mine and I just... surrender.

It's better than kissing some random muggle at a club. I know Ginny and she knows me.

As she takes her shirt off, I catch her wrist.

„This doesn't mean we're back together,“ I write, looking at her.

She nods. I kiss her hard and we fall into bed together.

When I wake up, I quietly slide out from under the warm covers and put my clothes on. I'm already in my jeans when Ginny blinks and sits up.

„You don't have to leave,“ she says, then writes it with messy hands.

I shake my head. „I should,“ I sign and with that, I'm out of the door.

„So that means you'll be doing the internship with the DADA classes and maybe later on the one with the pre-Hogwarts children?“ Hermione asks, handing me a cup of coffee. She might be a terrible cook, but her coffee is the best of all.

I nod. „Professor Logan said I could try applying again later on for the homeschooling internship, but I hope that until then, I might have already found a job at one of the other two.“

„That sounds great, Harry.“

Hermione smiles at me and I return it. Over the table, she reaches for my hand.

„How are you?“ she asks, knowing I can read it from her lips.

I pause. „Not that great,“ I sign, having to pull my hand away for that.

„Still Draco?“

I swallow and nod.

Still Draco.

* * *

I have never run into Harry on my way to work until a cold January Monday.

I think we're both surprised. It's been quite a while I've seen him and I wish I could say that his eyes couldn't make my heart beat faster anymore. But that would be lying.

Which I'm totally fine with. I love lying. Especially to myself.

„What are you doing up so early?“ I sign, arching a brow, trying to ignore the horrible awkwardness between us.

„I'm starting an internship,“ Harry signs and I can't help but smile at that. I know he was starting to get a little cabin fever, not working.

„That's great. Where?“

„Auror training for Hogwarts graduates.“

„Of course.“ I almost roll my eyes at his words.

There is an awkward pause in which we're just looking at each other.

Harry breaks it. „We never see each other anymore,“ he signs.

I bite my lip. „That is true.“

There is another pause, even longer this time.

„I miss you,“ Harry signs and my heart stumbles in my chest.

I just keep looking at him.

„Would you like to maybe hang out again?“

I should say no. I know I should.

I have a boyfriend now and Harry isn't good for me. It would be so much smarter to just keep avoiding him. Certainly not spending any time with him alone, because that, I apparently can't handle very well.

I say yes.

„You should come with me.“

I blink, drawing back from Cole's lips so I can look into his dark eyes.

„What would I be doing on a business trip with you?“

Cole grins. „I have a few ideas.“

He pulls me closer, hands on my hips.

„You said you'd be busy all day.“

„But not all night,“ he says into my ear, his breath ghosting over my cheek.

I suppress a sigh. I know what this is. What Cole wants.

I'm not sure why I'm so hesitant to give it.

„I'd be bored throughout the day,“ I say, even though I'm perfectly capable of enjoying myself on my own.

Cole draws back, frown on his face. „What's this, Draco? You seriously don't want to come with me?“

„I have work of my own,“ I say. My free days are very limited and do I really want to spend them on a business trip with Cole?

„Oh, come on. You hate your work.“

„Your point is?“ I wasn't planning on snapping at him, but here we are. I know he hates that side of me.

„You really just don't want to sleep with me, do you?“

I lower my gaze for a moment before meeting his eyes again. „I am sleeping with you.“

He rolls his eyes, now definitely annoyed.

„You know what I mean. Look, I get that the first time is a big deal and all, but... it's been weeks, Draco. Over a month. How long do you want me to wait?“

I swallow hard and cross my arms.

„It's not like I couldn't satisfy you.“

Several ruined sheets and shirts of mine are proof of that. I even know how to swallow now, despite that I honestly find it quite disgusting.

„It's not the same.“

I want to ask him if he would let me fuck him, but I don't. I know he wouldn't.

„You're pressuring me,“ I tell him, arms still crossed.

„Jesus,“ he says and turns away.

„Fine, then don't come with me. I'll see you in a week.“

The door slams shut behind him and I stand there, feeling stupid and young.

„How's your internship?“ I ask Harry after having handed him his tea. I'm glad for having a safe topic to talk about.

His face lights up. „Really great,“ he signs, movements big, full of energy. „I like watching the lessons and Professor Hawthorne said he'd soon let me help with the teaching. The only weird thing really is that I'm not older than most of the students. I'm even younger than some.“

„I don't think that is a problem. It merely means you'll have to work a little harder to earn their respect.“

Harry tilts his head and nods thoughtfully. „I guess. And it's not like I could start teaching immediately after the internship anyway. There is still a lot to learn.“

„I can imagine.“

I take a sip from my green tea, trying not to think about how Harry has kissed me on this ugly piece of funiture.

The fact that I've also sucked Cole off on this very couch doesn't make it better.

„How's your writing going?“ he asks and I hate when he does this. Seeming so genuinely interested in what I have to say, in what I do.

I tell him a little about it and he keeps asking questions until I reveal that I'm actually searching for information about Voldemorts childhood, about his time at Hogwarts and what happened afterwards. It's easy to find out all about what happened after he became the Dark Lord, but there is not much to find about Tom Riddle.

„I could help you,“ Harry signs.

„Excuse me?“

He shrugs, pulling one leg up. „I know quite a lot about him. Dumbledore taught me and then, I've learned some things myself as I was hunting for the Horcruxes.“

„Horcruxes?“

Harry's brows lift. „Right. You don't know.“

After watching Harry talk for more than half an hour, I realize how little I actually know about Voldemort and how much more research the book will need. The book no one but me will ever read, but, oh well. I have to keep my brain busy with something, don't I?

„Would you really help me?“

„Sure.“ Harry smiles at me, almost as if he'd be happy about my request. I'll never get this boy.

„Thank you. That is quite nice of you. I'll assure you that I'll find something to repay you,“ I sign, but Harry flaps his hand.

„You don't have to.“

„I want to.“

„I'm glad I can help. For real.“ His eyes on me make me uneasy and I have to turn away.

„Alright. If you insist.“

„How are things going with your boyfriend?“ Harry asks after a short pause and the atmosphere in the room changes immediately. Or maybe that's just me. It's probably just me.

„Well. Really well,“ I sign curtly.

Then, I can't resist. „And what about yourself? Already determined whether you play for the other team?“

I wonder whether my fingers show the same light sarcasm my voice would have carried. My face certainly does.

Harry swallows. „Yeah. I mean, I like guys. I'm not sure if I'm gay. I think I might like both.“

I nod, not knowing what to say.

„You never told me you are,“ he then signs.

I want to snarl at him.

„You seemed to be pretty confident I was when you kissed me,“ I sign, instantly wishing I could take it back.

Harry's features harden. „Maybe I should apologize for that. But I didn't feel like you hadn't enjoyed it.“

Enjoyed it? I was almost dying, burning up from how good his touch was. Which is sick, right? You don't want to feel like burning when you kiss someone.

„I didn't,“ I snap.

Harry seems hurt. „Right. Okay. Then you're just a good actor.“

„Why do you even care? Wasn't I just a little experiement for you?“

My fingers are shaking, I can't stop it.

Harry swallows visibly. „That's not what it was.“

„Oh, really? Then what was it? Enlighten me, please.“

Harry doesn't look away. „I liked you, Draco. I still do. I just wasn't able to admit it back then and I'm sorry for making you feel you'd just been an experiment for me. That wasn't it at all.“

I close my eyes.

How can he say that? Now, when I'm kissing someone else?

„You don't mean that.“

„I do.“ He reaches for me, but I pull away.

„You don't. I'm just... You just think of me as attractive or something. Or maybe it's the old hatred that makes it hot for you. You don't really like me.“

With a frown, he shakes his head. „No. That's not true. I do like you.“

I keep shaking my head. I can't let myself believe it. It's not true. And I don't need it.

„It's just because you can't have me now.“

He hesitates and I almost die. I don't want to be right.

„Isn't it, Potter? You thought I'd always be available for something on the side if you wanted it and now you can't accept that I've found someone else.“

He's shaking his head, but doesn't say anything.

„I think you should better leave.“

He ignores me. „Do you love him?“

I close my eyes. „Leave, Potter.“

Draco moves out in Feburary.

I don't see him again for two years.


	3. Chapter 3

No matter how often I tell myself that I'm an attention whore, I can't deny my nerves.

It's my first reading ever and I'm still Draco Malfoy. I'm fully aware that I mostly got published because the agents harboured a morbid curiousity for what I, Ex Death Eater and Malfoy Heir, would have to say about my life. They were probably hoping for some horrific details.

I don't think I've provided those, so I like to believe my writing skills did the trick in the end.

But, of course, I can't know that.

The audience is small – only around twenty people will be attending. That's alright. Everyone starts somewhere.

When I'm walking to my chair in front of the waiting spectators, my knees aren't even shaking. I'm confident about this. Nervous, but confident.

It's only when I've already sat down and the host of our little gathering introduces me that my stomach drops into a bottomless pit.

Harry Potter is sitting in the audience. All green eyes behind glasses and messy black hair. He's looking at me and suddenly, I'm nineteen again, angry and hurt and so painfully in love with him that I couldn't stand his presence.

I swallow against the dryness in my throat, desperately attempting to reign in my wayward heart wanting to fly at him.

Next to him are sitting two teenagers – a girl around thirteen with some weird red mark on her cheek and a boy about two years older, gangly and lanky.

What is Harry doing here? It's a reading. He can't hear.

I clear my throat and rush through my greetings. „I've written this book for gaining a clearer understanding of who Lord Voldemort was and how it was possible for him to establish such an oppressive reign with a comparably small amount of followers.“

I start reading out loud and can't stop myself – I glance at Harry.

The girl next to him is signing.

I trip over the words, not finding my line at first.

But then I focus and it flows easily. I've always liked reading. My mother would have a bedtime story for me every night until I went off to Hogwarts – even when my father said I was too old for it.

The applause after I end is impressive.

The kids next to Harry are smiling at me. I wonder who they are. They obviously can't be Harry's, but they're not siblings either. Harry is an only child. Maybe they belong to the Weasley clan somehow, but they lack the trademark hair and seem too old to be anyone's children.

I'm standing behind a small table, answering questions and even giving two or three autographs when Harry approaches me.

„Hello, Draco,“ he signs.

Up close, I notice some small changes. He grew a little stubble that makes him seems older, more masculine. I also think he changed his glasses, which are now a little less prominent. But other than that, he's the same and part of me thinks I'm hallucinating.

„The Chosen One,“ I sign.

He rolls his eyes, half annoyed, half... fond. „So you still know how to sign. I'm impressed.“

His own signing has become more fluent, quicker and more confident. I feel clumsy and ignorant next to him with my fumbling fingers.

But of course I still know how to do it. I used to practice every night. Then every week and now, a rush of panic I might have forgotten overcomes me at least twice a month and then I go through all the signs he taught me and a couple more.

„I've got a good memory.“

My gaze flickers to the kids next to him. „Who are your little companions?“

The girl looks at me with pure curiosity, her brown hair braided and green eyes eerily similar to Harry's. The mark on her cheek looks angry and red and I wonder if it's some kind of desease.

The boy's eyes dart between Harry and I, his dark bangs almost covering his brows. „This is Leah and this is Jack,“ Harry signs, smiling at both teenagers before looking back at me. „They're my students.“

„Nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy,“ Leah says, extending a hand for me. I shake it.

„The pleasure is all mine.“

„Do you dye your hair or is it like that naturally?“ Jack signs. So he's deaf too.

My eyebrows lift and Harry frowns at Jack.

„It's my natural haircolor.“

The boy seems somewhat impressed.

„What do I owe the honour of your visit, Potter?“

Harry tilts his head slightly. „I've heard about your reading and it just so happens that Leah and I are currently covering the Second Wizarding War of the New Ages. I thought your book might be fitting.“

I nod, slowly. „I understand.“

The pause is awkward, filled with years of absence, with significant others and unlucky kisses. With history.

„Did you really save Harry when the Death Eaters caught him and brought him to Malfoy Manor before the Battle of Hogwarts?“

This Jack-boy seems to have no filter.

I feel myself blush.

„Jack,“ Harry fingerspells, a clear sign of annoyance.

„What? You told us he did!“ Jack frowns.

I stare at Harry, who won't meet my gaze. „I wouldn't say I saved him. That was my former houseelf. I merely refused to identify him. In the end, that didn't change anything.“

„That's not true,“ Harry says, green eyes blazing and I find it hard to keep upright. „If you'd have told them it was me, they would have called Voldemort immediately and I'd probably be dead now.“

I didn't know he saw it like that. It's not how I remember it.

I remember being a coward – unable to sell him out, but also unable to really help. It wasn't me who came to rescue them. I sent my poor houseelf, who, of course, got the job done. And then paid with his life.

The people waiting in line are starting to get impatient.

„Well, we better leave you to it,“ Harry says.

And just like that, he walks out of my life again.

This time, it's not for two years though. Only two weeks in which I can't stop thinking about him. I dream about him – confusing dream, most of the time not even of a sexual nature. He's just always _there_.

One time, I dream about us at this stupid ball in fourth year. He's asking me to dance and in my dream as in real life, he can't dance for the life of his. But it doesn't matter, because he pulls me close and kisses me right there, on the dancefloor, for everyone to see.

„Don't leave,“ I tell him when he draws back. I cling to him, shameless in my dream, begging him to stay.

He caresses my arms and drops kisses into my hair. „Never.“

Waking up after this particular one leaves a bitter taste in my mouth that even coffee has a hard time washing away.

My apartment is still a rather small one, but it's nicer than the old one was. I'm especially proud of the bathroom – it's clean and almost decadent with a bath tub and big shower.

I've fantasized about shower sex in here more than once, but I never bring guys into my home. It's a rule of mine.

I don't really have much sex at all.

After a huge fight only shortly after moving into my new place, I broke up with Cole. He'd shoved me against the wall in his rage and maybe I overreacted, but I'll never be afraid in my own home again. I vowed this to myself and to Pansy, who got wasted with me that night.

In the two years that passed since then, I can count the men I've hooked up with on one hand. It was always in loos or dark alleys – never meant to be more than quick hands and mouths to find some primal relief.

Maybe I should go out more. I can't be thinking about Harry again. It's been so long.

Sighing, I drain my cup and get ready for the day.

I'm proof-reading articles for a magazine way less popular than the Prophet for a living and even though it gets rather dull, it is definitely an improvement to my former job.

Part of me still hopes that one day, I might be able to work as an author fulltime. Having my book published has easily been the best and proudest moment of my life and I yearn for experiencing it again.

Harry's owl finds me when I'm at work, skimming some odd article about toys for nifflers. Heart in my throat, I unfold the note.

_Dear Draco,_

_I know it's been a long time, but I wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to meet me for coffee? Or maybe firewhisky, if you'd prefer. I don't care either way._   
_Before you're starting to wreak your brain to find my ulterior motive: There is none. I was simply wondering how you're doing. I'd love to talk to you._   
_I'd get it if you don't want to see me – or try to. Afterall, you did kick me out the last time and then moved without saying goodbye, so... well, my expectations are low._   
_But I'd really like to see you._

_Harry_

I'm staring at the note for what feels like eternity.

It's been two years. Two years in which I've managed to build something of my own. Live for myself and slowly, the memory of Harry was starting to fade just a little, not quite hurting as much anymore.

Do I really want to risk going back? Letting him fuck me over again?

* * *

Draco Malfoy brings out the worst in me, is my first thought as I send him the letter.

But no. I'm not doing anything wrong – right?

All I'm looking for is some closure. I hate the way things ended between us. I lost a friend for the dumbest reasons.

And while I'm not stupid enough to believe that we'll be friends again, I at least don't want there to be bad blood between us. I like him too much for that.

My life has been good these last two years. I've did the two internships and was about to enroll in Auror Teacher Training, when Professor Logan offered me a place at his agency. I still don't know what it was that made me throw away everything and come to him, but I've never regretted it.

Teaching kids with special needs has been an eye-opener for me. I continue to be humbled and amazed by how those young people that keep fumbling their way through a life that refuses to make anything easy for them. It really puts my own disability into perspective and I love being able to do something good.

With some kids, I have a translator, but most were more than happy to learn signing for me. At eleven, it comes to them fast and easily.

I met Hannah when Ginny and Luna made their relationship official and George and Angelina finally broke up.

Hannah and I have been dating for three months now. On our second date, she said: „I'm fine with keeping things fun and easy, but I need us to be exclusive. Is that cool with you?“

It was very cool with me – I don't like to share.

Hannah and I met at a workshop for deaf teachers (yes, such things exist) and it was so awesome to be able to talk to someone new immediately, no barriers.

She enchanted me with her shining doe eyes and crazy pink hair and the white blouse contrasting her brown skin.

The only thing that as always been stuck in the back of my mind is Draco Malfoy. I felt guilty and angry equally.

Maybe I'll finally be able to let it go now.

Draco and I meet at a café and just like when I saw him at the reading, I can't help but notice how attractive he is.

He didn't change much in the last two years – his hair is still blond, longer on the top and short at his neck. He's still rather skinny and pointy, but there is a calmness about him now that was missing before. His gray eyes seem more open, his whole posture not as stiff. And while there are still sharp edges to him, they're not that prominent you're afraid to cut yourself on them.

„Potter,“ he signs, sitting down in the chair across the table.

I try for a smile. „I was hoping we wouldn't resort to lastnames anymore, Draco.“

He swallows and I hate myself for not being able to resist his charm. He's so fucking pretty.

I was genuinely surprised to end up with a woman once again – it seemed like lately, I'd been so much more attracted to guys. But Hannah just swooped in and made me forget about the grace of a flat chest and muscled thighs, the jut of an adam's apple.

Now, all those features are hitting me with full force.

„Are you sure you're not actually looking for a pretty twink?“ George had said when I first told them all about Hannah.

Offended, I had snapped at George that I was attracted to personality first. It was the truth – I have always been way more turned on by someone's character traits than physical appearance.

And yet, I can't deny that Draco's long fingers and lovely mouth are doing things to me I don't want to examine any more closely.

„We'll see about that,“ Draco signs, small smile on his lips.

„Congratulations again to your book,“ I say and he nods.

„Thank you. Congratulations to your new job.“

Relieved, I tell him more about it and he listens and it's so easy to think we're two years back, nineteen and stupid and mad about each other.

Well, I'm not sure if Draco has actually ever been mad about me. I just hoped.

„And outside from work? How is life?“ Draco asks conversationally, sipping on his hot chocolate.

Part of me doesn't want to tell him. But I'm not an asshole and certainly not a liar. „Pretty good. I'm spending more time with old friends again and I've been dating someone for a couple months.“

Draco's face doesn't give anything away.

Maybe he really doesn't care at all. I shouldn't either. We're over. We've never been anything anyway.

„Who is the lucky one?“

„Her name is Hannah. I met her during a workshop for deaf teachers.“

„Well, I'm happy for you two.“

 _Are you really? Are you, Draco?_ I'm such a bad person for wanting him to say no.

„What about you? Are you still with Cole?“

Draco shakes his head. „I broke up with him well over a year ago.“

„Anyone else?“

He gives me a look implying that I'm being nosy. „Not at the moment. I'm rather busy and not sure I want a relationship right now.“

I nod, not knowing what more to say to that. Not wanting to admit I'm relieved.

Against better judgement, I'm starting to hang out with Draco again.

I think we both know how dangerous it is, but somehow, I can't help myself.

I'm working and kissing Hannah and hanging out with Draco whenever I'm not with my other friends.

We're mostly talking about my work and his writing (he's currently having a few ideas, but isn't sure which one he actually wants to start working on) and avoid the subject of sex and relationships completely.

For a while, it works well.

It's only when I first invite Draco to a night out with my friends that things go downhill.

I didn't think Hannah would come. She usually doesn't – me going out with the old Gryffindor bunch was usually her cue to have a girls' night. But today, her best friend is out with her new boyfriend and another girlfriend is sick and the third one has already made dinner plans with her family.

So Hannah is coming with me and I wish I hadn't asked Draco. It's going to be enough of a challenge to introduce him to all of the Gryffindors at the table and then with Hannah... But I can't very well tell her no, can I?

„Harry!“ Ron hugs me and then kisses Hannah's cheek and I make my round, greeting Hermione, Ginny and Luna, Neville, George and Parvati. Rumors are going around that Neville and Parvati might have something going, but both of them keep denying it.

When Draco enters the pub, everyone stills for a moment.

Knowing it'll be my job to ease the tension, I get up and greet Draco with a smile. Only when we're both standing in front of my friends, I notice how weird it must seem that we don't hug. It's just something we don't do anymore. Touch each other.

Hermione and Luna are the ones who save us all from too much awkwardness. I'm deeply grateful that they apparently decide in a split second to treat Draco like anyone else and forget about the schooldays. They're doing it for me and it warms my heart.

„Hey, Draco. Nice to meet you,“ Hannah signs and gives Draco a warm smile.

I told her about him – the censored version. Just that we've not gotten along in school, then met by coincidence and became friends, lost touch again and now... we're here.

„I think it's so cool you learned BSL for Harry,“ she signs and I didn't think it would be this weird for me to see them together. They are polar opposites regarding everything.

Hannah is carefree, easy-going and always warm, while Draco is... thoughtful, deliberate and a bit aloof. They look nothing alike either – black and white, curvy and thin.

Well, I guess no one can say now that I have a type.

„It was fun to learn,“ Draco signs and I can't read his expression. He's polite, but beyond that... I have no idea what he thinks of this.

It's probably a bad idea to compensate for my nerves with alcohol, but my anxiety is flaring and I down two shots and then a butterbeer and then we're getting started on the firewhiskey and I'm drunk.

I'm sitting between Hannah and Ron, Draco across from me. It gives me an excuse to look at him. Everytime he catches me, I hastily tear my eyes away. I shouldn't be looking. My girlfriend is sitting right next to me, warm and soft and smelling like her favorite perfume – the one I bought for her at our one-month-anniversary.  
And yet, I can't stop staring at the boy I've been obsessed with since first year at Hogwarts.

What is it about Draco that keeps me looking?

„So, Nev, Parvati – will you finally admit you've been shagging each other's brains out for weeks now?“ George asks, grinning. Hermione signs for Hannah and me – even though most of my friends have began to learn BSL a little, no one but Ron and Hermione is good enough to hold a real conversation.

George is drunker than I am. Since the War, he's never going easy on the liquor anymore. Ron once admitted he was worried about it. Thought George might have a real problem.

Neville is blushing and Parvati rolls her eyes. „I'm not going to admit anything. When will you finally let it go, Georgie?“

George rolls his eyes. „Okay, then maybe Malfoy here can get you a date with Parkinson? Didn't you fancy her in school?“

I almost spit out my drink. „For real?“

Parvati blushes. „Come on, her boobs are just amazing! Sue me.“

Everyone laughs. Even Draco. I'm watching him. It's mesmerizing, the way his eyes crinkle and shine and how his white teeth are exposed.

I'm honestly not doing it consciously, but my shin is touching his under the table. He doesn't look at me, but I can see him swallow. He doesn't move his leg away.

„You didn't tell me you used to be involved with Draco,“ Hannah signs the next morning at the breakfast table. Hungover, I need a moment to respond to that.

„We weren't.“

Hannah frowns.

„I mean, we kissed once. But that's all.“ I can't quite look at her. This kiss... I've thought about it way, way too often.

„You're attracted to him,“ she signs, face neutral.

„I'm not.“

Hannah rolls her eyes, now looking annoyed. „Don't lie to me, Harry. I saw the way you looked at him.“

I bite my lip. „Okay, I guess I think he's attractive. But that's all. I promise.“

Hannah smiles a little. „It's okay. I know you're bi. And I don't expect you to never find anyone else attractive again just because you're with me.“

I don't know what to say to that.

„You know... I've been thinking,“ she signs. „If you miss being with men... we could do it together. I don't want an open relationship, you know that, but if you want to, I'd be down for a threeway.“

I stare at her. „What?“

She laughs. „Too much for you?“

I blink. „I've never had a threesome before,“ I sign.

„I have. Once. It was good.“

I gape at her.

I've honestly never thought much about having threesomes. I guess I'm too innocent for that. And also... I'm not sure the idea turns me on.

But – if Hannah's asking so nicely...

„Would you really be into that? Because, you know, just because I'm bi doesn't mean I need it. That's a misconception. I'm happy just with you.“

Hannah smiles at me. „I know. But I'm curious. And I want to see you happy.“

„Okay. I mean – wow.

„Only one condition.“

„Yeah?“

„Not with Draco.“

It's fun picking out a guy with Hannah. Our tastes tend to differ quite a bit, but in the end we find one that we both like: tall but lean, dark blond hair, blue eyes.

That's the only fun part about the whole ordeal though.

I know the moment we start undressing that this is not for me. It's confusing, having two people at once with me. I don't know who to touch, where to put my hands. When the guy is kissing me, I can't really enjoy it – I feel guilty, even though it apparently turns Hannah on.

When he's kissing her and she's obviously into it, I get jealous and that makes my erection flag which makes everything awkward.

I try, really try, to push down my own uncomfortableness and make it good for the other two – resulting in me being a little left out in the end.

The moment I ruin it for the other two is when I say I don't want him to fuck her. Hannah is totally understanding but also confused when I don't want to fuck him either, don't want him to fuck me and, just in general, rather'd leave.

The guy isn't quite as understanding as Hannah. I can see he's biting his tongue to keep from asking me why I even agreed to this in the first place.

In the end, we all go down on each other and I wish I could fake an orgasm because I can't come and that's when Hannah finally puts an end to it and we politely escort the guy to the door.

„I'm sorry,“ I sign the moment he left.

Hannah sighs. „It's okay. But you should have told me you're not into it. I can't read your thoughts.“

„I wasn't sure. I've never done it before.“

I suspected it wouldn't be my thing. But I couldn't know, could I?

„I know you're jealous, but I didn't think you'd be _that_ jealous,“ Hannah says, still frowning at me. „If you'd have told me before you wouldn't be comfortable with penetration between anyone and rather not have me going down on him, then I'd have figured out you didn't really want to do this.“

I rub my face. I feel horrible. I didn't tell her I've never had sex with a guy. Not with penetration involved.

But even if I did... I don't think I would have done it now. It just feels weird, doing it in front of my girlfriend.

And I find it weird that she'd apparently be into it. Which officially makes me the worst boyfriend ever. Here is this awesome girl who only wants to make me happy – who's more than okay with me living out my attraction to men and what do I do? Fuck it right up.

„I'm sorry.“ I don't know what else to say.

She sighs, again. „It's okay. But that really wasn't cool. Next time, I need you to tell me in advance.“

I nod. I don't know how to make this better.

„Maybe it was too early,“ she signs. „We don't know each other well enough for this.“

„Maybe.“ But I know now I don't ever want to do this again.

„I think you're making a mistake,“ Hermione signs.

I've come straight to her and Ron's apartment after work, exhausted and unhappy for no reason.

„With what?“ I ask.

Hermione tucks her legs up on the armchair, getting more comfortable. „Being friends with Draco.“

I close my eyes for a moment. „And why is that a mistake?“

„Because everyone can see you two aren't just friends?“

„I haven't touched him,“ I sign – angry she thinks I might cheat.

„But you want to.“

I can't lie to her.

She looks at me with pain and disappointment in her eyes. „Harry, this is wrong. It's not fair to any of you.“

I press my knuckles against my eyes, then sign: „I don't know what to do.“

„If you're in love with Draco, you have to break up with Hannah.“

„I don't want to break up with her. We're good together. Draco and I... I'm not sure it could ever be something real.“

„But it's not fair to Hannah. You're clearly not just physically attracted to Draco. It's more. And I'm afraid you might do something you'll later hate yourself for if you continue like this.“

Her words strike a chord in me. I know she's right. It's my biggest fear. „I'm scared I'll throw away a good thing for an illusion,“ I sign.

Hermione rubs her temple. „Only you can know what this between Draco and you really is, Harry. But I can tell you that I don't think you're in love with Hannah. And you are the kind of person that wants to be in love with their partner.“

„I like Hannah,“ I sign.

„I know.“

But I don't love her. Not like that.

Do I love Draco? I shy away from the thought.

It's all so intense with him, but... is that really love? Am I confusing passion for something more? Something deeper?

Wouldn't I be happier with Hannah in the end? I know she's good for me. She is a good person and a good partner. We have fun together – we laugh, we can talk and the sex is good. Does it really matter that the ache in my heart is missing?

Do I even want to feel that intensely anymore?

„I don't know what to do,“ I sign.

Hermoine looks at me with understanding, but a little impatient eyes. „I think you do.“

I don't bother Hermione with my confused feelings anymore – I have nothing new to say and she's got problems of her own.

Ron has proposed to her – and Hermione isn't sure she wants to say yes.

When Ron bursted into my apartment, reeking of alcohol, and told me all about it, I couldn't believe it at first. I was absolutely sure she'd be over the moon.

„She worries we're too young,“ Ron slurred, expression bitter.

Hermoioe doesn't want to get married at twenty-one. She doesn't want to settle down and start a family just yet and I get it.

But I'm worried about how she's now doubting everything about their relationship.

Unlike her, I think it's a blessing to find your one at age eleven – not an impossibility.

* * *

Harry is distracted when he drops into my apartment, frowning a little. Maybe even upset.

„Is everything alright?“ I ask, thinking I should kick him out.

Should kick him out for pressing his leg against mine under the table, his girlfriend right next to him. Should kick him out for ignoring me for a week afterwards.

But instead, I decided to be brave for once in my life. I don't want to go through what I went through two years ago again.

This time, I want to be honest. I want to have certainty – I don't want to keep wondering.

„Yeah... it's just Ron and Hermione. They're having a crisis,“ Harry signs.

„What about?“

He tells me about fear of commitment and proposals and kids.

„I think it's normal to ask those questions,“ I sign. „And this is the right time to do it.“

Harry's frown deepens. „But Ron and Hermione are meant to be. Hermione is just talking herself into something.“

„And how would you know?“ At his offeneded expression, I backpedal – just a little. „Maybe you're right, maybe they work well together and should stick with each other. But I think it's valid to ask yourself if there isn't maybe more. They have only ever been with each other, right? Don't you think it's natural to ask yourself at some point if you might be missing out?“

Harry looks at his hands. „But don't you believe that... when you know you know?“

That makes me smile without amusement. „Has that worked out for you so far?“

His eyes lock with mine. „No.“

„No. Because it's not that easy. Feelings are one thing and then there's reality.“

„But...“

„But it's romantic to believe in soulmates. Maybe they exist, I don't know. If they do though, I doubt you just always know.“

Harry doesn't look away and I feel my courage crumbling. Do I really have the boldness to tell him? It's not like me. It's not something I'd normally do.

But what is the alternative? Going on like this forever? Not able to let go, but never getting what I actually want. I can't be waiting all my life.

„Harry?“

„Yes?“

„I need to tell you something.“

It's almost as if I could hear both our hearts speed up. The room is quiet. It's only us.

I think I can't. I want to back out.

But he's looking at me.

 _Be brave, Dragon_. My mother's voice in my head. Be brave.

„I like you. I think you know that, but I wanted to tell you anyway. I like you and not just as friends. I'm not sure what we could be, but... I know friends isn't it.“

Green eyes are staring at me as my heart is hammering.

„I know you're with Hannah and that I have no right to ask you to leave her for me. But I must tell you that... I can't be friends. I either need to have all of you or go away. I can't do this anymore.“

Harry doesn't respond for a long while. I force myself to wait patiently, despite my racing heart. I've just dropped a lot on him and he'll want to think about his words carefully. „I'm confused,“ he signs. It's not a great start.

„Confused about what?“ My movements are sharp.

„About us.“ Harry pauses and I just look at him, pulse thrumming in my ears. „I like you, Draco.“

„How?“

Harry closes his eyes for a moment. „More than I should. But I just... I have a girlfriend.“

Something ugly is fouling my skin. It feels like mold would be spreading over my face. „Is that your answer?“

Harry looks desperate. „I don't want you to leave.“

„You can't have both.“

„You don't want to be friends?“ Harry signs, green eyes vulnerable.

My heart wants to break, but I don't let it. „I don't want to be friends. And neither do you, I don't think.“

I'm about to get up and show him to the door. Close it behind him. Shut him out.

His fingers close around my wrist. „Don't go.“

I pull my hand away. „Do you want to hurt me?“

Harry's eyes go wide. „No. Never.“

„Well, you're doing it right now. If you don't want me, you have to let me go.“ Despite my best attempt at cool and composed, my hands are trembling a little. And yet I know this is the right thing. „I'm sorry.“

He's standing up now. We're looking at each other's face, so close.

„Harry.“ It's a warning and a wish.

„I'm afraid you'll leave me,“ he signs. Before I can answer that this is what I have to do if he doesn't love me, he continues: „If we try this, I mean. I'm afraid you'll soon have enough of me and leave.“

I look into his eyes. „There would be much against us. The wizarding world and its expectations on top of the list. But I won't run, if that's what you're afraid of. If you say you're all in, I will be, too.“

Harry swallows. „You've run before. After I told you how I felt.“

Now, I can't quite hold his gaze. „I was younger then. And your timing was horrible.“

„So is yours,“ he signs, a hint of annoyance on his face.

„But when would have been the right moment?“ I ask, angry now.

„I don't know.“

I sigh, fighting the tears. I won't cry.

„What _do_ you know?“ I ask.

„That I don't want you to leave.“

„But you can't ask me to stay either.“

Harry doesn't say anything.

„Well, then.“

„Draco...“

For a moment, it feels like our souls are one and the same. The moment ends and I'm alone in the dark.

„This time, I won't give up my life and run. You'll be the one keeping his distance,“ I tell Harry, not quite looking at him.

„Is there really no other way?“

I shake my head and I think there are tears in his eyes.

„Can't you give me a little more time?“ His fingers are shaky and I know his voice would be quiet. Broken.

„I have already given you too much time,“ I sign.

A tear is running over Harry's cheek. When he leans in, I let myself be kissed. I even kiss him back.

It's a kiss goodbye.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting smutty in here... just a little heads-up should you not be into that!  
> If you are, I hope you enjoy

The months following the night Draco cut me off (or me him – I'm not sure) are foggy and sad.

Hannah and I break up only weeks after that. It's a mutual decision.

I keep thinking I've made all the wrong choices, but am still not sure what the right ones would have been.

The only thing that makes me leave my house is work. Without my job, I would have made a cave out of my bedroom and become a sceleton. A drunk sceleton, probably.

Ron and Hermione keep trying to talk to me, to console me, but I'm inconsolable. I miss Draco so much, sometimes I think my heart will just stop. I keep wondering why I didn't just beg him to stay. Didn't promise that he's the only one for me.

„You weren't ready,“ Ron signs, face full of compassion.

He has his own problems. After a serious talk, Ron has to make the decision if he wants to stay with Hermione even though she doesn't want to get married in the near future and certainly doesn't want to have kids.

Even my students notice that something is wrong. Especially Leah is always trying to cheer me up, which is more than sweet.

I try to keep an eye on Draco and his life until Neville, whose friend is working at the same magazine as Draco, cautiously tells me that Draco has a boyfriend.

That's when I stop.

I stop looking for him and realize I have to let him live his life.

I just wish I wouldn't have forgotten how to live my own.

If it was anyone else but Hermione, I would not have been convinced to attend any kind of gala – no matter how interesting all the guests are supposed to be. It's some kind of charity event and since Ron and Hermione broke up, Hermione has thrown herself into her work at the Ministry.

She'll be running for Minister for Magic in less than five years, I'm almost sure of that.

Just to please her, I'm wearing a suit. I hate suits, normally – they're uncomfortable and I feel like playing a character.

„Look, it's Percy!“ Hermione says, tugging on my arm.

The Weasley brother is attending with Penelope Clearwater on his arm. He's probably here to promote his new agency. None of us would have thought that Percy could be this successful, but his literary agency is thriving.

It's weird to see the atrium of the Ministry so altered – the floos are glamoured and it all looks like a huge ballroom. The Fountain of Magical Brethren is adorned with glitter and the splattering of water must be making for a calming white noise.

Hermione drags me over to Percy and I'm pretty lost. Percy isn't fluent in sign language at all and Hermione is only signing her own words for me, but not Percy's responses and doesn't even face me while doing it, so I really have no idea what's going on.

Not that I'd find it particularly interesting.

It's only when Hermione tenses next to me that I look up again. Percy is smiling widely and gesticulating to a very attractive, blond man in a light blue suit.

I forget how to breathe.

My world narrows only to the Slytherin standing before me. Our eyes lock and it's like we've never been apart.

Like it hasn't been a year.

„Draco,“ I sign and he nods at me.

His pale skin seems to be glowing and his eyes are smoky and everything fantasies are made of.

„Percy just said Malfoy and him have published his second book,“ Hermione signs, her eyes flickering between me and Draco.

I feel myself smile. Something watery and warm and oh so bright is swirling in my chest. It hurts and it makes me feel more alive than I have in a long time.

„Congratulations. I'm happy for you.“

Draco swallows and nods.

He still looks so young. Almost like a boy. But I know he's not. He's a man now.

I think about his boyfriend and the pain in my heart is dull. I hope he's treating Draco right. I hope he knows how lucky he is to have him.

„Thank you.“

I think Percy is talking, but I pay him no mind. I'm just looking at Draco. Drinking him up.

„Are you just going to stare at me, Potter?“ There is almost a smile on his lips.

„Would you like to walk with me?“ I ask.

He nods and I extend my arm, which he takes and I ignore Hermione's worried look as I escort him away from the people, the buzz of conversation I can't hear.

„How have you been?“ Draco asks as we left the Atrium, standing in an empty hallway.

I shrug and smile. „Not great, but I'm getting by. My kids are getting older. Jack will graduate next year.“

„That sounds exciting.“

„It is.“

„How are you?“ I ask him with my hands. I want to reach out and touch him. See if he feels the same. Smells the same.

„Quite well, thank you. My book has been a success, which makes me very proud.“

I wish he wouldn't be formal with me. I never want him to feel like he has to.

But I acknowledge that I don't have the right to see him with his guards down anymore. Someone else is getting all of him now, all that I was too stupid to take when he wanted me to have it.

„You should be proud.“

„How is Hannah?“ Draco asks and I know he's doing it to draw a line. Remind me where we stand.

„We've broken up almost a year ago now.“

Draco blinks. Of course he realizes how short after our last talk that was. „Why did you break up?“

I smile at him, my chest and throat so tight. „I think you know why.“

Draco's eyes dart to the side, his lashes fluttering. He's blushing and I want to tell him how beautiful he looks.

I hope his boyfriend does. I hope Draco knows.

„What about you?“

„What about me?“ he asks.

„Are you happy?“

Draco pauses for a moment. „Yes. I think I'm mostly happy. Happier than in a long time, definitely.“

I nod. It's strange how his words relieve me and break my heart at the same time.

„Well, I guess I'll leave you now then. I wish you all the best, Draco.“

The blond swallows. I get a glimpse behind his guards. „Do you have to leave already? It is still early.“

I blink. Take in his beauty. „I think it would be better. I don't want you to... You asked me to let you go. I don't want to make you sad again. Or myself.“

Draco swallows. „But aren't you single now?“

I raise my brows. „I am. But you're not. Are you?“

Draco holds my gaze. He has to look up only a little. I'm not much taller. „I'm single too.“

My world tilts.

Heart pounding, I ask: „But... I thought you had a boyfriend?“

Draco frowns. „I was with someone, but only for three months or so. It wasn't very serious.“

My heart is beating and beating and beating.

All for him.

I don't know what to say, so we're just staring at each other for a long while.

„Won't you kiss me?“ Draco asks, fingers uncertain, blush high on his cheek, but eyes on mine.

„I don't want to hurt you again.“

Defiance is gleaming in his stormy eyes. „Hurt me, Harry Potter.“

My lips are on his in a quick exhale, our bodies pressed together. Draco's mouth opens under mine and we're burning up together. Our teeth are clashing and Draco bites my lip so hard that I'm bleeding, but we don't care.

I'm pulling him closer. It's not close enough.

I press him against the wall and he hooks one leg around the back of my thigh. Our bodies are touching everywhere and feeling his arousel is almost enough to drive me over the edge.

It's been a while.

And it has never been Draco.

Our kisses are frantic as are our hands and suddenly, there are so many words I want to say to him. They get stuck in my throat, choking me and tears are falling from my lashes.

Draco pushes back just a little, looks into my face. He caresses my face. Kisses the tears off my cheeks.

„What is it?“ he asks. I can read his red lips.

I just shake my head and swallow, and swallow again, against the words.

Draco understands. „Later. We'll talk later,“ he says or I think that's what he says and then we're kissing again and none of us remember that we're in public. Not when I reach into his trouseres and we're both moaning – it's a breath of air against my neck.

I make him spill over my fingers and I'm coming over his and we're both panting into each other's necks.

I clean us up with a non-verbal spell, making him smile.

„You've practiced,“ he signs as he closes his trousers.

„I've had a good teacher.“

He arches one brow and straightens his shirt.

„Draco.“ I take his wrist. Words are choking me again.

„Yes?“

He can't leave me. I wouldn't survive.

„Don't leave.“

His gray eyes are on me. Calm and just a little uncertain. „I wasn't going to.“

„I... You -“ I don't know what to say. My heart is hammering and suddenly, I'm so afraid.

„Use your words, Harry,“ Draco signs and I take a deep breath.

„Go out with me,“ I sign. Then take his hands again.

He smiles and I fall fast, tumble, surrender.

„Pick me up at seven tomorrow,“ he signs and with that, he leaves me in the hallway, ruffled and painfully in love.

The whole day, I'm trying to prepare myself for Harry not showing up. I tell myself that would be no surprise and it wouldn't at all come close to a national catastrophe.

My heart is beating so fast that it's painful when Harry knocks on my door.

„Hey,“ I sign and say – glad he can't hear how breathless I sound.

He looks good in a green button down and jeans. So good, it makes me want to pull him inside and snog him senseless.

But the Gryffindor seems to have other ideas. He hugs me hello and I'm panicking immediately.

Why doesn't he kiss me?

Then I proceed to hate myself for acting like a fifteen-year-old and that's why I have to ask Harry to repeat his words several times. I'm always so distracted by staring at him.

It's a cold day, Feburary still feeling like deepest winter. I want to hold his hand. I want to link arms and press against his warm body, slipping my hands under his coat. I want him to hold me.

But I'm just walking beside him, letting him lead me to a restaurant.

I didn't expect Harry to pick such a fine one. He's being very worldly until the waiter shows us the wine selection. I can see his panic, no idea what to choose. It makes me feel this sweet ache inside of me that I've told myself time and time again I don't miss.

I smile at the waiter and tell him our choice.

Harry smiles at me sheepishly.

„I know you wouldn't know a good wine, Potter,“ I sign and when he seems mildly offended, I soften my smile and add: „Good thing that my parents taught me all about it before I was even allowed to drink any.“

That chases the tension away and we chat about Harry's work and then mine and it's lovely and wonderful and I hate every second of it.

I want to talk about us. I can't be here, loving his company, when he's planning on walking away tomorrow.

But I'm too scared to say anything. I've been brave once already. I can't do it again.

After dessert, Harry takes my hand. When his index is caressing the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist, tracing the blue veins visible under the thin skin, I feel completely transparent. Like he could see right into my soul.

He's paying and we're walking home hand in hand, my heart beating loudly all the way.

In front of my apartment door, we come to a halt, looking at each other.

„I had fun tonight,“ Harry signs, smiling, and it's the right thing to say but it feels like it's not enough. We're not that. We're not a shy first date, evaluating whether we might want to see each other again.

I want it all. I want it all and I want it now and I want it so badly, it takes my breath away.

I reach up to kiss him. He's surprised at first, but then responds, hands on my waist possessively.

I want him to claim me. I want to be his and only his. I want him to be mine.

„Do you want to come in?“ I ask, hating the fact that I have to draw back, stop touching him, to sign.

Harry seems a little dazed, green eyes clouded. „Are you sure?“

Not at all. But I don't care. Suddenly, I want to throw it all away – give it all to him, my everything, even risking he might break it. I don't care anymore. I'll always have the memories. „Yes.“

I pull him inside and we kiss in my living room. I'm wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, closer even still.

We're exploring each other's mouth and his hands are under my coat, then under my shirt, touching my skin.

I want more.

Quickly, I shed my coat. Then lead him into my bedroom. His eyes are big as I close the bedroom door behind us. It's like he's walked into a dream.

I'm shivering as I toe off my shoes. Then start unbuttoning my shirt. He doesn't move and it makes me so insecure and so desperately eager.

„Undress, Potter.“ But he doesn't. He's staring at me as I push my jeans down. Standing before him only in my pants, my heart is beating so hard that I'm sure he can see it.

I'm scared and more turned on than ever before. The proof of that is tenting my pants and I know I'm flushed a bright red.

I don't care. I want him so bad. I've wanted him since I knew how to want. Probably even before that.

„Touch me,“ I sign and I feel faint and desperate.

„You're so fucking gorgeous,“ he signs and then, finally, finally, his hands are on my body. He's running them over my sides, my back. Then they're settling on my hips, his thumbs stroking slow circles into my skin. I'm trembling and my fingers curl around his biceps. He's so strong. I want him to throw me over his shoulder and toss me on the bed. I want him to… „Fuck me,“ I say, breathless.

He reads my lips and groans. Hearing his voice, even though it's not words, makes me even harder.

„Are you sure?“

I bite his lip in response and start unbuttonening his shirt. He helps me, almost destroying it in the process.

When we're both only in our pants, he walks me to the bed. I follow willingly and lie down on my back. He can do anything to me. I'd do anything for him.

„Harry.“

He can't hear my voice, but he sees me saying his name and something that is so intense, it's almost pain, flickers over his face.

I pull him closer. My heart is racing as I push his pants down and expose him completely.

I've had him in my hand yesterday, but I couldn't see. Now I can.

I take my time looking and it makes Harry blush. I don't know why. He's so perfect. So absolutely gorgeous in every way.

My fingers trace an oval scar on his sternum before I let my hand drop lower. Touch him where he wants to be touched most.

He moans and I smile and we kiss.

I reach for the lube I've stored in my nightstand for months now. The lube that no one but me has ever used.

I won't tell him I've never done this. I'm afraid it might drive him away. Or make me look stupid. I'm almost twenty-three, afterall.

„I've never done this before,“ Harry signs and I almost drop the little bottle. I stare at him.

I was so sure he has.

„Not with a boy,“ he adds, biting his lip.

I swallow. „Me neither.“

„Not with a boy?“

„Not at all.“

We look at each other.

„We don't have to,“ he then says, probably because he can feel my heart hammering.

I shake my head. „I want to.“

„Okay.“ He takes the lube from me. Something needy and desperate is flaring inside me.

„Do you want me too? Do you want to fuck me?“

I swallow and Harry's eyes are so bright I almost can't stand looking at them.

„You have no idea how much, Draco. I've been dreaming about you for three years.“

He seems to think that's long. Maybe I'll tell him one day how long I've been dreaming about him.

Definitely more than three years.

Nevertheless, his words soothe me and I roll over.

I've never felt this vulnerable. Almost scared now.

Harry seems to sense it, because for a long time, his hands are simply stroking my skin, following the lines of my back, caressing the insides of my thighs, the slender curve of my ass, until I relax into his touch.

When he starts touching me where I really want to be touched, slipping one careful finger inside me, I can't hold back my moan.

It feels different from when I do it and I already know I'm going to love it.

He waits for me to arch my back, keening quietly, until he adds another one. It's burning at first and he kisses my shoulder blades, his fingers working gently.  
When I have three strong fingers inside me, I'm tugging on his wrist. I could come from this.

„Ready?“ his eyes ask me. I nod.

When he tries to pull me up to my knees, I shake my head and roll onto my back. I'm not going to be fucked from behind for my first time. I want him to know it's me, every second of it.

„On all fours would be easier,“ Harry signs as I look up at him. He kisses my cheeks.

I shake my head. „I don't care. I want to see you.“

That makes him moan, a sound low in his throat that I want him to make again and again.

I want this so inexplicably much, I didn't really expect it to hurt at all.

But it does. It hurts quite bad, actually.

When I hiss and tense and grab Harry's wrists, he slows. His green eyes are looking at me.

„Do you want me to stop?“ his right hand asks. It's not easy for him to sign, propped up on one elbow to keep balance, messing up the signs due to doing it single-handedly.

„No. Just go slow,“ I sign for him and he does.

Just when I think that this isn't at all how I always imagined it to be, despite the exstatic expression on Harry's face when he bottoms out, he hooks my right leg a little higher over his shoulder, changing the angle.

I shout when he hits the sweet spot inside me for the first time and when he does it again, all I can do is cling to him, moaning and shouting and begging. I'm melting in his hands and I can see he's loving it.

He comes without warning and I hiss in complaint. The feeling of him spilling inside me is foreign, but I like it for some weird reason.

When he pulls out and collapses next to me, he seems absolutely out of it. I did this to him. It makes me smile smugly, despite my throbbing erection demanding attention.

He turns to me, looks at me. I run my fingers through his hair.

„Oh my god, Draco,“ he signs with slow fingers. „You're so amazing. That was so good. Merlin, you're so tight, I can't...“

I grin now. Harry post orgasm is apparently a Harry with Gregory's IQ.

„You didn't come,“ he signs, alarmed. He's just noticing it now.

„I'm sure you're about to change that, aren't you?“ I sign.

„Of course. But...“

He looks down to his crotch.

I take his hand. „This will suffice, I'm sure.“

Harry smiles dazedly and reaches for my erection. I part my legs and put his hand where I want it.

I'm already sore, but it still doesn't take me longer than a few minutes to come from Harry fingering me. The moment he touches my leaking erection, I shout his name and paint my belly in white streaks.

Harry kisses me and I keep his face close to mine. His smile is touching something deep inside of me. He kisses my nose and then my eyebrows before he pulls me close, curling his body around mine.

I fall asleep with a smile on my lips.

* * *

I wake up with a glorious feeling in my chest. I don't remember where it's coming from, until I realize that my arm is wrapped around a warm body.  
Blinking my eyes open, I breathe in an intoxicating scent. It's a scent of sex and boy and Draco.

I kiss his neck, pulling his body closer. He's warm and pliant and I can feel him wake up in my arms, slowly.

He rolls around to face me and his gray eyes are puffy from sleep and light and gorgeous. It hurts me to look at them and yet, I never want to look away. I'd say something, but it's impossible to stop stroking his body. I'm hard again already.

Draco pushes my hands away. „I need a shower,“ he signs.

„I'll come with you,“ I sign.

He laughs when I don't let him get up alone. I can't stop touching him.

„Potter,“ he signs when I wrap my arms around him from behind, kissing his neck, his shoulder.

We barely make it into the shower and by the time we do, we're both a panting mess. I think Draco is keening and press my ear against his throat, feeling the vibrations.

I slip my wet fingers between his legs and when I find him all sore and puffy from the night before, I drop to my knees.

„Turn around, darling,“ I sign, for once glad not to have my voice anymore. I don't think it would carry.

Draco's jaw goes slack at my words and he slowly complies.

My fingers are stroking the insides of his thighs, gently pushing his legs apart. When I start kissing him, licking him, fucking him with my tongue, he loses it completely.

As I've successfully reduced him to a babbling mess, I get up, knees creaking, and lift him. He wraps his legs around my waist and I scramble for shower gel.

It's not a sufficient replacement for lube and I know I must hurt Draco when I push in, but he doesn't complain – only arches his back, pulling me close, begging for more. It hurts me not to be able to hear him, but just the look on his face is enough to have me worry I won't last.

I fuck him against the wet tiles until we're both coming. I lose it when I feel him clenching around me, his orgasm sending tremors through his body.

„I've always wanted to do this,“ he signs when I finally put him down again and we let the stream of hot water wash away the sweat and the cum.

„Shower sex?“

He grins. „Yes.“

„Why haven't you?“ I ask.

Draco swallows. Looks away for a moment. „I usually am very high-maintenance. You're the only one sneaking your way around it.“

I grin and kiss him and then kiss him some more because I finally can. „I love shower sex with you.“

„Me too.“ He washes my hair and I don't know how I could have ever thought I'd been in love before. As great as Ginny was – it wasn't like this. I didn't know it's possible to be so absolutely gone for another person.

If it was up to me, I'd move in with Draco on the spot. But, of course, we don't do that. It's never good to rush things and the last thing I want is to stupidly fuck this up.

And yet, I spend every night lying awake, afraid he might decide that this isn't what he wants afterall. That we won't work.

To my great surprise, Ron is the one who is most supportive of me being with Draco. „I mean, I'm not sure I'll ever really like the git, but if he makes you happy... I trust you, mate.“

Hermione is worried. I think she is waiting for the inevitable fallout.

I'm praying it won't come.

I take Draco flying. We spend hours in the air, first chasing the snitch, then chasing each other.

We kiss lying in the grass, brooms next to us. His lips are cold and chapped and his tongue hot in my mouth.

„I love you,“ I tell him, my heart in his hands.

Draco looks at me without blinking. When he places one elegant hand on my heart, feeling it beating, I know I'd do anything for him. Anything at all.

* * *

The fallout comes on a rainy Monday morning in April, when the reporters of the Prophet finally catch us.

_The Savior and the Malfoy Heir – Our hero in the enemy's grasp?_

They speculate how I might have manipulated Harry. He's requested to undergo a physical and psychological check-up. I get hate mail – so much that I finally flee to Pansy's.

She cancels on two clients for me and I'm sitting on her couch, drinking tea with her in lingerie that leaves nothing to the imagination. Sometimes I think she likes flaunting her body around me because I'm the only one in her world that doesn't give a fuck about it.

„This is wrong,“ I say when we switch from tea to firewhiskey. „I'm destroying his life.“

„You're not,“ Pansy says, flapping her hand. Despite the hard lines the life of a hooker has drawn around her mouth, she's still stunning with her dark eyes and hair, curves to die for.

„Why do you even care what everyone else thinks?“

„I don't. I just don't want them to get to Harry,“ I say.

It takes Harry two days to hunt me down.

„I don't care,“ he tells me. „I mean, I wish they wouldn't casually mention three times each article how my disability makes me easy to manipulate, but let them think whatever they want. We know the truth.“

„It's not fair,“ I sign and he kisses me hard.

„You promised you wouldn't leave,“ he signs, green eyes blazing.

„Are you sure you don't want me to?“ I ask, serious.

Harry rolls his eyes. „I love you, Draco Malfoy.“

I know he wants me to say it back.

One day, I might.

* * *

Draco and I only make the headlines for about a month before we're slowly becoming old news.

„Move in with me,“ I ask the Slytherin curled up in my bed.

He gives me a look. „My flat is prettier than yours.“

„Then I'll move in with you. I don't care,“ I sign.

He smiles and pulls me close, wrapping lean legs around me. „Then so be it.“

It's at a party at Draco's apartment that Pansy and Hermione first meet.

I was glued to Draco's side for most of the evening, only venturing away to chat with Ron and his new girlfriend. It will take a while until I'll get used to my best friends not being together anymore. I just hope they'll learn to be friends again.

„Look at that,“ Draco says as I find him in the kitchen again, mixing cocktails.

Pansy and Hermione are all snuggled up together, apparently completely caught up in each other.

I blink. „Who would've guessed?“

Draco smiles. „Pansy is too pretty for Granger.“

I elbow him. It was meant to be lightly, but I end up hurting him. Draco sends a blazing look my way. „Don't, Potter. Don't ever.“

I swallow. „I'm sorry.“

We lock eyes in our kitchen and I know before he tells me in bed that night.

„My father hit me sometimes. He thought it would make me more of a man.“

„You're the best man I know,“ I sign, wanting to kill Lucius Malfoy.

Draco smiles. „I'm pretty great indeed.“

Jack, my oldest student, graduates in July and my heart is singing. I'm so proud of him.

And I'll miss him. Not two students are the same and seeing one leave makes me realize how very much I appreciate all of them.

Well, most of them. There is one that makes working with him not really easy, but that's part of the job.

Draco invites me to dinner as a celebration and we eat sushi and drink wine and grin at each other.

After dinner, we go to Pansy's party. She's celebrating too – with Hermione's help, she found a new job. Instead of selling her body, she'll soon be selling expensive clothes she designed herself. When Pansy told Draco, he cried happy tears.

No one really knows whether Pansy and Hermione are official or not, but everyone who sees them together know that they have something. Something special that doesn't necessarily need labels. I think it might be exactly what Hermione was looking for; what she couldn't have with Ron.

Much later, in our dark bedroom, Draco climbs into my lap and kisses me.

We're naked and tipsy and I look at him with my lips parted. Sometimes I still can't believe he's with me.

„Tell me,“ I sign as he takes me inside him, moves with slow, sensual rolls of his hips.

As much as he usually likes it hard and fast, it's always breathtaking when we do it like this. Slow. Sweet.

„Tell you what?“ he signs, before wrapping his arms around me again.

I just keep staring at him. „Tell me,“ I mouth.

His eyes are dark and tender. He pulls back a little so he can sign. „I love you, Harry Potter.“

Something inside of me unravels. Together, we come undone.

After all those years, he's saying it. „I love you, I love you, I love you...“

Again and again and again – making up for all the moments we didn't say what we've known for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it - thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Kudos and Comments are very much appreciated.


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